<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Dark Lord by Korell</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730349">The Dark Lord</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korell/pseuds/Korell'>Korell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Death Eaters, Gen, Slytherin Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:29:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korell/pseuds/Korell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard in the world</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The best deal of Caractacus Burke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a late winter dawn.  Clouds of thick fog dissipated, leaving watery streaks on the misted windows.  It rained with sleet all night long.  By morning the snow melted, leaving muddy puddles on the streets.  Formless clouds crept slowly across the cold sky, mingling with the vapors of the smoky train station.</p><p> </p><p>The man lying in bed yawned sweetly and, throwing back the fleece blanket, raised his head.  Rubbing his stuck eyes, he glanced in annoyance at the mantel clock in the shape of a griffin.  It was about eight o'clock.  With a sigh, the man pulled on his slippers and, throwing on a terry robe, trudged to the sink.</p><p> </p><p>He loved a cold shower, loved to feel how the cold awakens the body and chases away the remnants of sleep.  Wiping himself with a terry towel, Caractacus Burke (that was the name of this dense dark-haired man) thought with delight that after a tedious shaving procedure, a cup of aromatic coffee awaits him.</p><p> </p><p>Caractacus Burke was still wiping the last of the lather from his plump cheeks when there was the persistent knock of the door knocker.</p><p> </p><p> “Mr. Burke…” he heard a slightly cracked voice.  - Mr. Burke, open it at last!</p><p> </p><p>The man grimaced: it was undoubtedly his neighbor Jesse Brandon.  Mrs. Brandon has long become a widow and lived with her daughter Amanda.  Caractacus Burke hated both.  Jesse and Amanda were Squibs, and he considered them the scum of the wizarding world.  Worse, Mandy, as everyone called Amanda, vulgarly threw her feet on the table and annoyed Caractacus with constant noise.</p><p> </p><p> “One minute… I'm going, going,” Burke muttered, hearing Jesse banging harder on the door.  "And where does she get such power?"  He wondered.  But, opening the oak door, he froze: next to the sharp-nosed old woman stood a red-haired constable in new uniform and impeccable white gloves.</p><p> </p><p> “What do you owe, sir?”  Burke was surprised.</p><p> </p><p> “Will you deign to let in?”  The constable remarked glumly, holding out the documents.  Jesse regarded him with dislike.</p><p> </p><p> “Of course ... come in ...” - muttered the taken aback owner.</p><p> </p><p>He disliked the Muggle police, but it was best not to clash with them.  Jesse and a constable, who introduced himself as Dick Pritchard, entered the hallway.  Leaving footprints on the floor, they went to the dining room to Burke's disgust.</p><p> </p><p>“Coffee?”  - suggested Caractacus Burke, seating the policeman and the old woman in brand new black chairs with white seats.</p><p> </p><p>“If I may.  Thank you very much”.</p><p> </p><p>The constable nodded, moving the cup with the golden butterflies.</p><p> </p><p>“Something happened?”  Burke asked with interest, lighting the primus in the Muggle way.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, an unpleasant incident.  Amanda is missing”, - the policeman said.</p><p> </p><p>“How?”  Burke's bushy eyebrows went up.  He looked curiously at Jesse and only now realized that she was agitated.</p><p> </p><p> “Amanda was away for a little while and never came back,” the constable continued.  “And you, Mr. Burke, they say, were the last ones who saw her:</p><p> </p><p>‘Indeed?  In the evening she banged on the door.  When I opened I asked for a loan of twenty pounds.  True, I saw her out as soon as possible ...”</p><p> </p><p> “And the beggar?  Have you, by any chance, seen a beggar woman in a green dress wandering under the window?’  - the policeman specified.</p><p> </p><p> "To be honest, no," Burke shook his head after a moment's thought.  The folds on his greasy forehead formed a funny accordion.</p><p> </p><p> “Okay, thanks for that”.  The constable finished his coffee in one gulp, while Jesse did not touch the cup.</p><p> </p><p> "Did you feel sorry for twenty pounds?"  - She muttered, going to the door.</p><p> </p><p> “Mandy would just drink them away,” Burke said calmly.</p><p> </p><p>Having removed the dirt with a wave of his wand, the owner went into the dining room.  Not that he felt sorry for the annoying Mandy, but in recent days he noticed a lot of strange things.  Sunrises are late as never before.  Flocks of owls flying somewhere.  Mysterious black figures in Knockturn Alley.  Disappearance of people.  It was rumored that behind them was a growing Dark community.  And although Burke was not inclined to believe the rumors, he could not discount them.</p><p> </p><p>Caractacus Burke clicked a radio button.  A moment's interference - and the voice of the announcer began to talk about the news.  Possible severance of diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union.  Strengthening the position of the Italian dictator Benito Mussolini.  President Calvin Coolidge's friction with Congress over duties in the steel industry.  Rumors about the illness of German Foreign Minister Gustav Stresemann ... Muggles, like magicians, had their own world, their own politics and their own wars.  Mr. Burke smiled indulgently and, pouring cream into his coffee, began to read The Daily Prophet.</p><p> </p><p>The magic news turned out to be more interesting.  Deputy Minister of Magic Nicholas Colson has been dismissed.  The famous magician Albus Dumbledore became the teacher of Transfiguration at Hogwarts.  The dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald has appeared in New York.  The radio played the popular foxtrot "Youʼre driving me crazy," and Burke unnoticed for himself began tapping with a spoon to the beat of an uncomplicated melody.</p><p> </p><p>Daybreak outside the window.  The city was decorated with Christmas wreaths of holly and mistletoe.  The lights with all colors wrapped around the wires.  New Year's illumination was dimmer than Christmas.  But the feeling of the holiday persisted: people, as if not having seen the long-awaited Christmas, wanted it to continue.  There will be a pleasant pre-New Year bustle on the streets today.  "What did I do to you?"  - the radio was straining.  And with a cheerful wink to himself, Caractacus Burke began to gather.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span> * * *</span>
</p><p> </p><p>The day was not very well.  There were few visitors on New Year's Eve.  Nimble James Gorbin ran out into the street, beckoning strange types wandering along the Knockturn Alley.  Burke tried to sell the Hand of Glory to one of these visitors, but they did not agree on a price.  Only the young witch bought the stone from the conspiracies.</p><p> </p><p>Although the “Gorbin &amp; Burke” store was founded six months ago, it has already acquired a unique look.  There was a red brick fireplace near the back wall.  Nearby was a black cabinet full of strange objects.  In the window stood the Hand of Glory, which had become something of a business card for “Gorbin and Burke”.  A small window looked out onto the dark Knockturn Alley.  It was half past three, but the store was as dark as late at night.</p><p> </p><p>The grandfather clock in the shape of a gargoyle struck three as a young witch appeared at the door.  Burke invited her with a gesture of his hand.  And immediately raised his eyebrows in surprise: the girl was undoubtedly pregnant.</p><p> </p><p> "What I owe, Meuse ..." Burke muttered with mild amazement.  The girl was silent and, without looking, flopped down on a chair.</p><p> </p><p>Burke examined her clothes.  She seemed to him an amazing mixture of wealth and poverty.  A green velvet dress, more suitable for a theater than Knockturn Alley.  Expensive white gloves to the elbow.  White pumps, dangerous for a cold day.  And right there - a jacket casually thrown over the shoulders with holey elbows and a torn collar.</p><p> </p><p> “What is your name?”  Burke approached the visitor.  She continued to look at her feet, as if not noticing him.</p><p> </p><p> “However ... Do you want to buy something?  “Gorbin &amp; Burke” is at your service”.</p><p> </p><p>The girl turned around.  Burke was surprised to see dull, lifeless hair and an ugly pale face with rough features.  Small brown eyes squinted in different directions.  It seemed to Caractacus that he had never seen such a doomed look.  "I wonder what kind of rickety miscarriage such a freak can have?"  - he thought, looking with disgust at her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“I do not want to buy, but to sell.  This, - the girl took the medallion from her neck and held it out”.</p><p> </p><p> “You know, they tried to sell me all kinds of rubbish so many times that I must first make sure of the value of the thing”.</p><p> </p><p>“It's… Slytherin's medallion…” the girl choked out.</p><p> </p><p> “Stop pouring.  I certainly appreciate New Year's jokes.  But don’t think that you, scum, will be able to deceive me ...” - the owner grinned.</p><p> </p><p>A flying candle lit the medallion lid.  It was engraved with an emerald snake in the shape of the letter "S".  With a wave of his wand, Burke whispered a spell and cried out with joy.  But he immediately frowned and bit his lip.</p><p> </p><p>“Ten galleons,” he said coldly.</p><p> </p><p> “Only ten galleons?  Ten galleons for Slytherin's own medallion?”  - shouted a visitor with a mixture of pain and despair.</p><p> </p><p> “Ten galleons.  And not a knat anymore”, - the seller grinned.</p><p> </p><p> “But this is a very expensive relic ...” - the girl whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen to me, young lady”, said Caractacus Burke coldly, putting on his glasses.  “The locket looks like a Slytherin relic.  But I cannot say for certain.  Recently they tried to fool me by passing the piece of iron into Merlin's ring.  Who can guarantee that your trinket is not a fake?”</p><p> </p><p>The girl lowered her head and looked at the pointed nose of the white shoe.</p><p> </p><p>“That's right, nobody,” said Caractacus Burke.  “I'm taking a big risk.  And ten galleons are all that I can give”.</p><p> </p><p> “Then give it back,” the visitor said quietly.</p><p> </p><p> “Back?”  Burke tightened his grip on the medallion.  “My dear,” he laughed, “I can just take him.  But I am kind and offer you a great price.  Who will give you ten galleons, you fool?</p><p> </p><p> “Well ...” - the girl sobbed and raised her tear-stained eyes.</p><p> </p><p>There were purple circles under the beggar's eyelids.  A tiny tear is stuck on her rare eyelashes.  Burke felt a slight prick in his heart as he looked at her.  He quickly pinched himself: there is no need to feel sorry for this bastard brat.</p><p> </p><p> “Here, take it.” Burke pulled the money out of the pocket of his brown suede jacket and counted it out neatly.  The girl greedily grabbed the money, but continued to sit.  She didn't seem to have the strength to get up.</p><p> </p><p>“You can go”, - Caractacus gestured to the door.  "Or do you need a special invitation, young lady?"  He chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>The visitor closed the heavy door with a sob.  The owner followed her with a malicious glance.  Glancing at the bronze candlestick, he grabbed a piece of parchment and quickly wrote: “Slytherin medallion.  Seven thousand galleons". A moment later, a gold medallion with an emerald snake lay on the window.  Caractacus Burke rubbed his slightly sweaty hands and remarked judiciously:</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I'm closing.  Do not tempt fate twice on such a day!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> ***</p><p> </p><p>Merope walked slowly towards Knockturn Alley.  Ten galleons!  It was negligible, but still better than nothing.  She could see a doctor.  Could buy some food.  I could have rented a room in the Leaky Cauldron.  For the first time in the last month, she smiled and immediately shuddered: burning pain, like a blow of a whip, burned her heart.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You filthy creature!  Whore!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Tom's eyes grew unnaturally large with fear.  He twitched his hands as if catching invisible threads in the air.  Merope's heart sank.  Desperate, she stretched out her thin arms.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Tom, please ...”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Don't you dare talk to me!  Don't you dare, vile witch!”  - Tom kicked the stool, and it flew with a crash on the floor.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Tom, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to ...”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Did not want?”  - Hatred burned in Tom's big brown eyes. "You broke my life, creature!  Both me and Cecilia ...”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The dark houses of  Knockturn Alley loomed overhead, merging with the low sky.  Merope stared in horror at the smoked windows and soot-covered walls.  It began to snow, and wet snowflakes, whirling randomly, fell on the street mud.  Two shadows separated from one of the houses.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She fell to her knees.  Tom chuckled and kicked her.  Pain, like a burn, pierced every cell.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Filthy scum,” he added calmly, kicking her again.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Tom ... Please ... Your child ...”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I don’t need you or your offspring.  You can take the bastard for yourself.  Or better drown him in a nearby ditch, ”Tom laughed with a high, cold laugh.  Tears covered her face, and the next kick plunged her into a pain.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> “Good afternoon, baby!”</p><p> </p><p>Merope shuddered.  A rough man's hand tugged at the shoulder: the two shadows were men in black robes and caps.  The alley was deserted.  There was no need to think about escape or help.</p><p> </p><p> “Have you ever been to Gorbin and Burke, darling?  - the partner grinned.</p><p> </p><p> “So what's the catch, baby?”  The first voice continued.</p><p> </p><p> “Ten galleons…” Merope managed timidly.</p><p> </p><p> “Ten galleons?  Cold gray eyes were visible through the mask.  - Was it worth it to get dirty for such a minuscule?”</p><p> </p><p>The men laughed out loud.  Merope twitched involuntarily, but a strong hand gripped her slender wrist.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you can share your income?”  - the second laughed.</p><p> </p><p> “I…” Merope muttered in fright.  – “That is all I have.  Help, ”she tried to scream, but the gray-eyed man quickly took out his wand”.</p><p> </p><p> “Run?  What about "Crucio", baby?”  He grinned.</p><p> </p><p>Merope felt goose bumps on her body.  Her father punished her with this curse three times.  The pain was so severe, as if they were cutting dozens of knives or burning hot tips of soldering irons.  Merope recoiled in horror.  The stranger's wand brushed against her fragile neck.</p><p> </p><p> “Just dare to twitch, you creature,” the gray-eyed one hissed.  The precious ten galleons passed into a sweaty male palm.</p><p> </p><p>Large flakes began to fall harder, turning into a wet blizzard.  It was amazing, but Merope felt neither pain, nor pity, nor despair.  The gray sky seemed unbearably cruel.  She didn't care.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I love you, Merope".</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>They went shopping, picking up new items for her wardrobe.  The shopping arcade was permeated with a delicate scent of French perfume, and Merope was hungry for the unusual floral scent.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Tom, look at the dress!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A green velvet dress hung in the window.  This dress immediately became her dream.  Merope was ashamed to ask Tom.  But she had never seen such beautiful clothes, and could not resist the temptation.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Why not, dear?”  - Tom laughed, picking her up in his arms and whirling merrily on the street to the surprise of prim passers-by.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The girl looked around.  She was sitting on a granite curb near the old fence of the park.  A crowd was hurrying down the busy street.  Two boys were burning sparklers.  Several girls waved ribbons and scattered colorful confetti.  A flock of children were throwing wet snowballs.  The wet blizzard became quite thick, covering the dome of the old cathedral and the glowing headlights of cars.</p><p> </p><p> “Here, take it,” an elderly man in an old-fashioned top hat bent down and tossed her a coin like a beggar.</p><p> </p><p>Merope grabbed the coin and put it greedily in her pocket.  The Lord doesn't seem to have completely left her.  She didn't know exactly how to use an unexpected gift, but with some sixth sense she understood that this particular coin would help her child.  You just need to sit a little more ...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> “Why are you sitting, baby?”</p><p> </p><p>The clock and the bell struck eight.  The streets are empty.  The cold wind intensified, and Merope felt a strong chill.  She wanted to cover herself with a warm blanket.</p><p> </p><p> “Are you fine?”</p><p> </p><p>Merope raised her eyes with difficulty.  An elderly woman in a yellow coat stood over her.</p><p> </p><p> “My God, you're pregnant, - the old woman whispered ... - You will soon give birth ...”</p><p> </p><p> “How do you know?”</p><p> </p><p> “My late husband was a doctor.  Come on, there is a shelter nearby, they will help”. </p><p> </p><p>The old woman, taking Merope by the arm, led her away from the carved fence of the snow-covered square. Merope hardly knew which part of London they were walking on.  And what did it matter?  She moved her legs mechanically, trying to numb the pain.  Crystal garlands shimmered, casting multi-colored glare on the snow that had just fallen.  The whistle of locomotives and the hiss of a water tower could be heard in the distance.</p><p> </p><p> “Nothing,” the old woman whispered.  - They will help at the shelter, just give me a coin.  And when you get well, pray for old Emma Miles, and for the peace of the soul of old Arthur Miles.</p><p> </p><p>Pain shot through her stomach again.  Squinting, Merope noticed the grate.  In the semi-darkness, one could see the carved pattern of cast-iron rods, sprinkled with light powder of snow.</p><p> </p><p> “Here we are.  Ring the bell.  Maybe, - the old woman stroked Merope on the shoulders, - still, you see, and even get a job in an orphanage.  The money is not great, but you will always be with the baby ...”</p><p> </p><p>She did not remember how she walked through the wrought-iron gates, the empty courtyard and rang the bell.  A thick woman in an apron opened the door.</p><p> </p><p> “Closed ... Or are you a beggar?”  She stared up at the boat on Merope's swollen legs with a displeased look.  – “You, creatures, got divorced ...”</p><p> </p><p>“Help ... I beg you ...” - groaned Merope.  Placing a coin in her plump hands, she hobbled to the saving light.</p><p> </p><p>The hallway looked poor but immaculately clean.  The flat floor was tiled with black and white tiles.  The plump woman in the doorway was saying something, but Merope did not understand her.  She plopped down on the green sofa, and to the sound of the wind raging outside the windows, she again went into sweet oblivion.</p><p> </p><p>A strange voice brought her back to life.  Merope shuddered, and, overcoming a chill, turned to the left.  Nearby, as in a fog, stood a short, thin woman in a gray dressing gown.</p><p> </p><p> “Coming soon….”  Merope gave her a blank look.  “I hope he looks like his father ...”</p><p> </p><p> “My God”, she's on the demolition!”  The woman in the robe shouted.  “Jane, prepare the bed in the second room.  I'll take her there.</p><p> </p><p> “Don't be afraid,” she continued, helping Merope to her feet.  “I'm Hannah Cole, the owner of the orphanage.  My assistant Mrs. Rogers will call Dr. Rochester.  He lives nearby and has a telephone”.</p><p> </p><p>The contractions began as soon as the head touched the roller on the old couch.  Metal tongs sank between the legs.  Sharp pain burned through the body, tearing every vein.  Merope ignored the words, shouting some of them in serpentine tongue.  Finally, there was a resounding cry.  Overcoming the pain, Merope stood up and cried out with joy: Mrs. Cole was holding a small frail body in her hands.  The child looked at her with big eyes.  The eyes of Tom.</p><p> </p><p> “Boy or girl?”  Merope muttered.</p><p> </p><p> “Boy,” Mrs. Cole said calmly.  – “Congratulations, My dear!”</p><p> </p><p> “His name is Tom.  Tom Riddle as his father.  And Marvolo, in honor of his grandfather", - Merope smiled forcefully.  – “Give it ...”</p><p> </p><p>The chills did not subside.  She slowly moved her crumpled sheet with her foot.  The child, trembling desperately, instinctively reached for the mother's breast.  Merope, weakened, stroked his head.</p><p> </p><p> “Tom… If one day you find out what happened to me, please forgive my father… I forgive him.  I forgive everything”.</p><p> </p><p>The child stubbornly pressed against the chest.  He must have been hungry and tried to make hissing noises.  Merope smiled: the baby would be a Parselmouths, like all his ancestors.  The outlines of the room floated, assuming curves.  Nurse Jane rubbed her hands with vinegar, but Merope could not feel it.  She fancied that she was sitting on the shore of a warm sea and holding in her hands a metal chain, which was unusually light.</p><p> </p><p>“Rub harder, harder, Jane,” Mrs. Cole screamed.</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Charles Rochester rushed in and threw off his coat strewn with wet snowflakes as he walked and took a stethoscope out of his suitcase.  Pulling Jane aside, he felt Merope's chilled hand and said solemnly:</p><p> </p><p> “Hopeless”.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Cole and Mrs. Rogers whispered uneasily.  Jane's skinny nurse screamed desperately.  Dr. Rochester quickly filled the syringe, as if hoping for a miracle.  Someone suggested calling the police.  In the confusion, no one paid attention to the small creature hugging its mother's chest, not realizing that it was the chest of a corpse.  The first thing that Tom Marvolo Riddle learned in life was the chilling coldness of a dead body.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The boy who never smiled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a gloomy November morning. The air was chill, and the numerous clouds looked like lumpy porridge in the ice-grey sky. It should have been snowing, but the humidity was low. Due to the low moisture in the chest, it was like a sticky lump;  breath, turning into steam, mixed with the thick vapors of the London fog.  Tom shivered chilly and laid a faded green blanket on the curb: not even the light sweater he wore under the dark gray shelter uniform did not save him from the piercing wind.  Tom found this blanket from an old German sofa in the shelter's attic a couple of years ago and has not parted with it since.</p><p> </p><p>Merope's dying wish came true: the boy was a miniature copy of his handsome father.  Unnaturally tall for his ten years, Tom was so thin that he used an awl to punch an additional hole in his belt.  Thin wrists always protruded a few inches from the sleeves of the too short and baggy shelter shape.  The pale skin was set off by the thick black color of slightly curly hair, which, however, had long needed a haircut.  But the most unusual thing about Tom's appearance were his eyes: bright turquoise, framed by long, almost like a girl's, eyelashes.  Their gaze always seemed somehow lost.  The impression of the boy was spoiled only by a slight stoop: Tom did not digest sports and never did it.</p><p> </p><p>Sunday was starting, and to Tom's chagrin, there were no lessons that day.  Breakfast has just finished, where they gave thin millet porridge.  Tom hated this dish and, feeling the urge to vomit, to the general laughter, eagerly seized it with bread.  There were a couple of hours before Sunday school.  Orphanages ran out to the patio to play before class.  Tom sat down on the bedspread and wrapped himself tighter in his sweater to calm the chill from the icy wind.</p><p> </p><p> " Jack London.  “Martin Eden",” Tom whispered, opening the book.</p><p> </p><p>The morning street was empty, only a milkmaid trader was rolling a cart with a can.  A dense fog almost engulfed the roofs of neighboring houses and the high spire of the chapel.  Tom rubbed his palms harder and immediately cried out: a sharp pain from the blow burned his knee.</p><p> </p><p> "Happy reading, Riddle!"  - came the sonorous voice of James Biggert.</p><p> </p><p>Tom stared with hatred at the stout man running and feverishly felt the pocket where the big apple he had saved from supper lay.  Tom didn’t want to part with him, but James couldn’t get away with the impudent trick.  Swinging, he threw the apple with all his might.</p><p> </p><p> “Here's my answer, Biggert,” Tom chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>" So you die, Riddle!" - James yelled at the top of his voice, brushing the rotten flesh from the bruised back of his head.</p><p> “Only after you, Jamie.</p><p> </p><p>Tom rubbed his knee in annoyance.  He was terribly angry with himself: James Biggert, Billy Stubbs and Brenda Becky were his sworn enemies.  Tom had been expecting nasty things from this trio since the morning, and yet at the last moment he stupidly missed a blow.  Any orphanage orphan knew almost from birth that it was impossible to stretch his legs forward: the simpleton was immediately kicked or tripped.  “Relax, idiot,” Tom whispered and tried to focus on the book.</p><p> </p><p>Although all the orphanages were abandoned by their parents, Tom was different from the rest.  He knew that he was not like everyone else.  To the other orphans, Tom seemed too strange to treat him like a friend.  If the children got tired of playing football or playing pranks, they insulted Tom or beat him.  When Tom was eight years old, older teenagers pushed him into an ice hole for fun, resulting in a broken arm.</p><p> </p><p>Over the years of his life at the orphanage, Riddle was never able to understand why almost all children hate him, although because of him, other orphans often had unpleasant experiences.  When Tom was four years old, a certain Mr. Grant gave the orphanage a children's railroad.  Tom really wanted to play with everyone.  But as soon as he looked at the toy, the locomotive and the station with the barrier shattered to pieces.  That day, James Biggert and eight-year-old Michael Korn beat Tom mercilessly to Brenda's enthusiastic cries.</p><p> </p><p>Another incident happened when Tom was six years old.  Once, after lessons, Anthony Grace and Henry Oyren decided to beat him for fun.  Carried away by the beatings, they broke three of Tom's ribs with kicks, and he spent ten days in the infirmary.  On the first night, Tom had a dream that Anthony fell down the stairs and broke his leg.  To Tom's surprise, Anthony was brought to the infirmary the next morning with a broken leg.  The next night, Tom happily imagined Henry Oyren being bitten by a dog.  In the morning, Henry, climbing the back streets of the orphanage, was actually bitten by a huge black dog.  It was whispering around that Riddle had punished the offenders.  And although it seemed complete nonsense, Tom then realized that he was special, different from other children.</p><p> </p><p>Tom really knew how to do things inaccessible to others: with a simple movement of his hand he raised and lowered stones;  could heat or cool the kettle with a touch of the palm.  Sometimes it seemed to Tom that he understood the thoughts of those around him ... But the more the boy discovered oddities in himself, the more the other children hated him.  Due to Tom's inability to play football, dress quickly and tie his shoelaces well, the boys, to the joyful exclamations of the girls, often insulted or beat him.  Tom knew that other children hated him, and in turn, could not stand them.</p><p> </p><p>After about half an hour, Tom looked up from the book and looked around.  The orphanage was a large square building with a high fence, near which sparse, almost flying trees grew.  Children in gray uniforms were merrily launching newspaper boats.  Fat Henry Oyren, as usual, rode importantly on the shoulders of two seven-year-olds: the orphanage kids were required to carry older orphans.  Shivering, Tom looked through the carved cast-iron fence and shuddered.  A black car was parked near the stone gate, brakes rustling.</p><p> </p><p>Tom narrowed his eyes.  A chauffeur in a gray raincoat and a checkered cap got out of the car.  With a quick movement, he opened the back door.  A moment later, a woman of about forty and a girl of about ten were standing by the car.  The woman was in a gray suit with an expensive ermine cape, the girl in a lilac dress and a golden velvet jacket.  The driver lit a cigarette indifferently.  The lady, waving aside the puffs of tobacco smoke, went to the gate.</p><p> </p><p> “Good morning.” The woman tried to smile, although her smile looked tight and hard.</p><p> </p><p> “Good morning,” Tom examined the visitor appraisingly.  Her long white hair turned gray.  The upturned chin and cold blue eyes spoke of a strong-willed disposition.  Diamonds shone on his sleek, slightly wrinkled hands.  Tom grimaced: he didn’t like people bragging about wealth.</p><p> </p><p> "Are you an orphan?"  The woman asked, studying him with interest.</p><p> </p><p> “As you can see,” Tom sneered.  “My mother only had time to give me a name,” he immediately went over to his usual tone.</p><p> </p><p> "What's your name?  Jenny, calm down! " - shouted the lady at the girl at the fence.  </p><p> </p><p>Tom suddenly thought her rough yellow boots would be perfect for riding. Tom looked at the girl, noting her golden hair and piercing blue eyes, just like her mother's.  Naturally, she did not wear a shelter's uniform: she was wearing an expensive autumn cloak.  Jenny caught his eye and grimaced in disgust.  The boy grimaced in response and turned to the lady.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom".</p><p> </p><p>"Thomas?" The woman tried to squeeze out a smile again.</p><p> </p><p> " No, Tom.  Tom Marvolo Riddle”, he chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>Tom did not like his name: after all, almost all the surrounding cats were called Toms.  “Your mother died, calling you Tom after your father, and the stupid name Marvolo after your grandfather,” Mrs. Cole told him when Tom was four years old.  Since then, the boy knew that he had a father, who is also called Tom Riddle.  But it was in another, almost unreal, world, and in ordinary life, Tom was pretty sick of the comparison with smelly cats.</p><p> </p><p> "An unusual name ... "- The visitor seemed to be thinking about something.  -" How old are you?"</p><p> </p><p> " Soon eleven", - Tom calmly held her gaze.  - "Who are you?"</p><p> </p><p> “I'm Emma Spaulding.  This is my daughter - Jenny Spaulding - she pointed to the girl at the fence - your age.  Do you know where your director is?"</p><p> </p><p>Riddle knew perfectly well where Mrs. Cole, the director of the orphanage, was now.  She sat in a local bar, pouring into herself probably the fifth mug of gin, but Tom guessed that it was better not to tell the guests about it.</p><p> </p><p> “She seems to have left for town about two hours ago,” Tom lied.  Then, as politely as he could bring himself to, he asked.  -</p><p>'Maybe you can tell her something?</p><p> </p><p> "Riddle!?  Mrs. Rogers heard the chesty voice.  - "Are you hooligan again?"</p><p> </p><p> “I'm here, Mrs. Rogers.” Tom spat her name out like a curse.</p><p> </p><p>The lavish orphanage castellan Gemma Rogers hated Tom, and he paid her in the same coin.  Once in childhood, Tom tried to argue with her, for which the director of the orphanage, Mrs. Cole, kicked his ears.</p><p> </p><p>" Well, why so strict, Mrs. Rogers? ? - the strange visitor laughed.  -" Tom is great, he meets us.  And we would like to see ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, good morning, Mrs. Spaulding,” Mrs. Cole whispered as she ran from the porch.  Her shabby green dress with large greasy patches fluttered in the wind.  Tom winced; the headmistress gave off a persistent smell of fumes.</p><p> </p><p> “Good morning, Mrs. Cole.  The lady spoke with the slight hoarseness of a representative of high society.  - I hope everything is ready?"</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, Mrs. Spaulding.  The headmistress's tone turned oily.   Did you come on the same case that you wrote to me yesterday?"</p><p> </p><p> “I would like to adopt a child”, the visitor replied calmly.</p><p> </p><p>" What age and gender?"  Sang Mrs. Cole.</p><p> </p><p>Tom chuckled: Mrs. Cole now reminded him of a salesman who was about to hit a big jackpot.</p><p> </p><p> “A boy about eight or nine years old,” said Mrs. Spaulding, mechanically adjusting the button of her coat.  "I need a calm child". </p><p> </p><p>Tom snorted maliciously, thinking that only Eric Volley, who is always suffering from boils and acne, would suit the lady.</p><p> </p><p> “I’ll gather all the boys from eight to ten years old, and you will choose who will fit".  Mrs. Cole sounded like she was announcing the sale of pedigree kittens.  "Riddle, quickly march into the yard!" </p><p> </p><p>Tom slammed the book in annoyance and stalked to the door.</p><p> </p><p>"Aren't you cold?"  Mrs. Cole asked carefully.</p><p> </p><p> "Toady!"  Tom muttered softly with contempt.</p><p> </p><p> "Maybe we can go to the shelter?"  The headmistress smiled sweetly again.</p><p> </p><p> "No, thank you", the lady refused politely, looking at the ajar openwork gates of the shelter.</p><p> </p><p>The courtyard was already in turmoil.  Six ten-year-old boys were lined up in a dark gray line.  Some of them shouted joyfully.  Tom, sighing, stood between the blond Billy Stubbs and the quiet black-haired boy - the sickly Eric Will.</p><p> </p><p> “Who’s come,” came Stubbs’s voice.  - Thomas is a shabby cat!"</p><p> </p><p> “Go scratch your dumb rabbit's ears, Stubbs,” Tom snapped.</p><p> </p><p> The girls standing nearby burst out laughing.  Who at the orphanage didn't know that Billy Stubbs loved his bunny Jimmy?</p><p> </p><p>The children quickly formed a semicircle: the adoption procedure was worked out in the orphanage to the smallest detail.  Mrs Spaulding walked past the line.  Tom looked at her fur cape with dislike.  Once in a history textbook he saw a picture of Roman patricians buying slaves.  Since then, he hated the adoption procedure, feeling like a living commodity.  All that remained was to pray that a rich lady with a capricious daughter would not notice him: Tom did not want to obey them for anything in the world.</p><p> </p><p> “Take your time, there’s time,” Mrs. Cole muttered to the visitor.</p><p> </p><p>Looking absent-mindedly at the gate, Tom recalled how, in the old days, the kind Jane, the orphanage, would sometimes make tea in the kitchen.  A dark blue teapot puffed merrily on the stove, and Jane, in an apron, fussed around a white cabinet with a broken door. Tom would sometimes drop in and get either a sugary gingerbread, or (if he was lucky) even an oatmeal cookie.  Tom already then with dismay noted the unnatural blush on her pale cheeks and the dry cough, which the girl tried to carefully hide.  He tried to persuade Jane to go to the doctor, and she was stubborn, claiming that her dry cough was nothing more than ordinary bronchitis.  Tom bitterly thought that now he would gladly run into her kitchen and report unusual visitors ...</p><p> </p><p>" Who are you?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered, but immediately sighed with relief: the woman stopped near the blue-eyed Jonathan Birds.  The child's face was strewn with freckles and light scratches from fungus or eczema.</p><p> </p><p>" You are ... me??  - scared whispered Jonathan.  He, apparently, was sure that they would choose anyone, but not him.</p><p> </p><p>" Of course you, you fool", - the woman smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Stubbs and Biggert laughing.  Eight-year-olds Angie Creighton and Oliver Turn laughed next.  How they all want to be like their elders, Tom thought with disgust.  He looked at the fence again, and Jenny again gave the boy an unpleasant look of cold blue eyes.</p><p> </p><p>" Come on, Jonathan.  Let's settle the formalities, Mrs. Cole, ”Emma Spaulding nodded dryly.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, yes, of course,” the headmistress agreed.</p><p> </p><p>The frail Jonathan took a step forward.  The lady smiled and gave Riddle an odd look.  Tom winced and studied the reflection in the puddle of bare trees.  There was an unpleasant feeling in his soul, as if he was doomed to meet again with the cold and domineering Mrs. Spaulding.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The Sunday School was at St. Clement Chapel, a mile and a half from the orphanage.  Directly beyond it began the road to the red station of St. Pancras: the area that Tom ran up and down.  His favorite place was Vauxhall Road - a downhill street with two-story houses.  One of them housed the shop of Oliver Barnett, a seller of stationery and antique trinkets.  Tom went there from time to time to look at notebooks, notebooks, oriental figurines or fancy paperweights.  The boy even tried to buy a diary with glossy cream paper, but it was too expensive.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked out the window.  A heavy downpour obscured the view of the small houses of dark stone.  A bush of wild roses grew near one of them.  Usually they bloomed until late autumn, but now, due to the strong wind, the broken petals were strewn in the mud.  Some of them swam in a puddle, plunging into muddy water.</p><p> </p><p>" Riddle, repeat what were the names of the first disciples of Christ?"</p><p> </p><p>Jerome's father seemed to have noticed Tom's absent-mindedness.  The elderly priest was strict.  He reported any wrongdoing to Mrs. Cole, and the violator was expected to receive a portion of roses from the manager Ernie Spencer.  At the mere memory of his greasy hair, the boy winced with disgust.  Blond Lucy Stewart snorted, anticipating Tom's failure.</p><p> </p><p> "Andrew and Peter", - Riddle looked sarcastically at Lucy.  </p><p> </p><p>Disappointment was written in her dark blue eyes.  But the red-haired Leslie Inn sent him a smile.  Tom smiled back.  They weren't friends, and yet Leslie never bullied Tom and smiled at him when they met.</p><p> </p><p>" Well, that's right, Mr. Riddle.  Miss Stewart, can you explain the difference between the teaching of the English and Roman churches?"</p><p> </p><p>" Mmm ... probably ... Where the Savior came to ...."</p><p> </p><p>The little fingers of the girl began frantically flipping through the Bible.  Tom chuckled.  After reading glossy magazines, Lucy pretended to be a "real lady", for hours spinning in front of the mirror and practicing her gait, but the Bible stubbornly refused to her.</p><p> </p><p> “Bad,” the priest frowned.  - Mr. Riddle?"</p><p> </p><p> " We do not recognize Peter's priority over the other apostles".  - With excitement, Tom's large eyes gleamed with a damp turquoise light.</p><p> </p><p> “That's right,” the priest nodded.  - I think we can move on to reading the Gospel of Mark.  Miss Stewart, you will now prepare the story of the Savior's Birth".</p><p> </p><p>Terrified, Lucy stared at the Bible.  Leslie whispered something to her friend.  Tom sighed.  Lucy, like everyone in need of a hint, seemed to him a complete insignificance.  An inner voice suggested that it was time to ask a question that had long tormented him.  Tom first tried to chase the thought away, but then, determined, raised his hand.</p><p> </p><p> " Yes, Mr. Riddle??  Father Jerome asked in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>" Forgive me, sir ... Why do we honor the Apostle Peter, if he denied the Savior three times?"</p><p> </p><p> “Tom”,  the priest looked at him desperately.  -" Why are you always so categorical?  Why do you judge everything so categorically?"</p><p>Tom's reproaches for being categorical were Jerome's father's hobby.  However, the old man got really angry today.  There was a chuckle from behind.  Tom turned around.  Brenda Becky, pushing back her thick brown hair, nudged Billy Stubbs with a long finger and whispered something to him and James Biggert.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked furiously at the Bible page.  If Lucy, James or Eric had laughed, he would have limited himself to answering barbs.  But Brenda!  Riddle really hated her.  As a child, she often came to see Tom beaten.  Becky, moreover, already had bodyguards for ten or twelve years.  They snatched Christmas or Easter candies from little Tom, and Brenda defiantly ate them, sitting on the edge of the table and dangling her thin legs.  Tom tried to take revenge on Brenda by tossing slugs into her gray uniform shoes.  For this, Becky's patrons beat Tom so that he lay in the infirmary for several days.</p><p> </p><p> "Riddle, what have you done??  - the pastor's voice brought Tom out of oblivion.</p><p> </p><p>A burst of laughter shook the class.  Tom looked around lostly, then turned his gaze to the wooden table and only then realized what had happened.  The page of the Gospel, which he was looking at with anger, was torn in half.</p><p> </p><p> “Damn it,” Tom whispered.  Tearing a page of a holy book was too much of a fault to get off your hands.</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t know how you did it, Riddle.  Jerome's father's face turned red.  - No, this is unheard of!  I'll inform Mrs. Cole.</p><p> </p><p> “Sir… I didn't want to…” the anger passed, and Tom felt a chill of fear creep into his heart.</p><p> </p><p> "Do you know what you're saying, Riddle?"  “It seemed to him that Father Jerome was going to choke with rage.  “The lesson is over,” the priest added to the ecstatic hum of the orphans.  Without looking at Tom, he blessed the class and went to the door.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>At lunch, Tom caught malicious glances at himself.  Almost all of the classmates, except for the quiet Eric Will and the good Leslie Inn, were in anticipation of his inevitable punishment.  Out of anger, Tom quickly devoured the tasteless soup made from boiled vegetables.</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle,” said Martha, Mrs. Cole’s young assistant as she walked, “at six you’ll see the director!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked after her sadly.  He did not want to think about the upcoming flogging, and he decided to visit Mr. Barnett's shop before punishment.  Finishing his cold tea, Tom quickly walked down to the exit and walked along the wet gravel paths.  Leaving the shelter was discouraged, but children ran freely through the side gate.  The other was worse.  Orphans were not entitled to umbrellas: they were given out when they went to church holidays or to Sunday school, so the old umbrellas, thrown into the trash bin by their former owners, were found and repaired by all the orphan children.  After much agony, Tom managed to crookedly sew a patch to a black umbrella with holes, which he had picked up a couple of weeks ago.  Revealing his simple craft, he ran down the street.</p><p> </p><p>Ten minutes later, Tom was racing past the grocery stalls.  The owners, having prudently put fruit on the street, hid from the rain.  The little restaurant was empty: an Indian waiter was laying out starched tablecloths and napkins.  Tom ran across the intersection and stopped outside a shop with oriental figurines.  Carved glass with a drawing of the Indian god Shiva was built into the oak door.  Tom banged the knocker on the door and waited patiently.</p><p> </p><p>The owner of the shop, Oliver Barnett, was one of those who are called "a real gentleman."  Tall and dark-haired, he wore delicate glasses over a fleshy nose.  An unnaturally large belly gave the owner a touch of old age, although in reality he was barely over forty.</p><p> </p><p> “Ah, that's you, Tom,” Mr. Barnett has long got used to this strange child.</p><p> </p><p>Approaching the entrance, he lit a kerosene lamp, and then, hunched over, began to slowly climb the worn steps.  Tom followed him.  After a while, he found himself at a familiar window, overlooking not the street, but the cobbled courtyard.  There was an unkempt armchair by the old fireplace;  a black ellipse clock with yellow Roman numerals ticked on the wall.</p><p> </p><p> “It's cool here,” Tom shivered, looking at the bronze Buddha.  It seemed to him that the statuette was always glad to see him.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m not saving up for a fireplace,” the owner complained.  - Only the stove.  And so, everything is as before, - he gently moved his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Tom didn't smile.  He always sensed when people were lying, and now Mr. Barnett was definitely lying.  Frowning, he followed his master into the small hallway along the creaky boards.  It seemed to Tom that even the boards in this store squeaked differently than on the dusty stairs in the orphanage.</p><p> </p><p> “Come on, Tom, I’ll show you something interesting,” the owner smiled when the boy finally hung his battered gray raincoat on a hook.  The seams in his pockets were so torn that they could hardly have been sewn up even in the old Regent Street studio.</p><p> </p><p>They walked past glass cases with oriental trinkets.  Tom nodded cheerfully to them, as if glad to meet old friends.  Carried away, the boy almost missed the porcelain service in one of the shelves.  Tom looked closely and barely resisted an exclamation of amazement: small macaques and large monkeys with staffs were depicted on dark blue plates, cups, butter dish, saucers and teapot.</p><p> </p><p> “Monkeyland…” Tom whispered.</p><p> </p><p>" Yes, this is the "monkey service" from Taipei.  But I have another novelty today”. Mr. Barnett pointed to a shelf in the far corner.  - "Look - you won't regret it, - he lightly patted the boy's shoulder".</p><p> </p><p>Burning with curiosity, Tom walked over to a small black sideboard.  On the middle shelf was a silver tray with seven cups.  Each of them was the size of a thimble and speckled with incomprehensible black marks.</p><p> </p><p> " What is it? " - finally squeezed out the shocked Tom.</p><p> </p><p> “These,” Mr. Barnett adjusted his glasses, “are sake cups.  Sake, - he smiled, - Japanese rice vodka.  It is served in a bowl and then poured into seven cups.  After all, seven is a number that brings good luck ..."</p><p> </p><p>Tom, as if spellbound, looked at the shop window.  In this mysterious Japan, there were many flowers, dwarf trees and people in white robes with the strange name "kimono".  Each of these cups seemed to carry the scent of blooming white cherries - the Japanese called them "sakura".  From the very word, a distant sweetish scent emanated.  Tom did not know if the people of that country were happy.  But he knew for sure that there was no Mrs. Cole, the smell of sauerkraut and scattered laundry detergents.</p><p> </p><p> "Buddha?"  Tom pointed to a thick statuette that he had not seen here before.</p><p> </p><p> “Lao Tzu”, Mr. Barnett shook his head.  - Fine, let's go down".</p><p> </p><p>The rain has turned into a drizzling shroud.  The evening restaurant was filled with din of visitors.  At the sight of smartly dressed passers-by, Tom was overwhelmed by an irresistible desire to go with them to the station and walk along the platform.  Closing his eyes, Tom happily thought of the moment when he would see the shining windows of dark green carriages and smell the railway smell mixed with burning and fuel oil.  Tom looked around for a minute, and then, inhaling the moist autumn air, rushed to St. Pancras.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p> "Where did you hang out?  I ask, where have you been hanging out, bastard?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom stood in the middle of the room.  At the oval black table were Mrs. Cole, Martha and Mrs. Rogers.  Opposite Mrs. Cole stood, as usual, a vase of dry autumn flowers - physalis.  Tom looked with disgust at the red fruits of the dried flowers: they always reminded him of the inevitability of another punishment.</p><p> </p><p> "I'm a little lost:, -  Tom always lied masterly and tried to throw the most sincere look at the headmistress.  - "I'm sorry".</p><p> </p><p> “Please”,  Mrs. Rogers mimicked him.  - "Just look at this impudent boy.  He was told to come at six, and he showed up in an hour and a half!"</p><p> </p><p> “And that's not to mention the torn page of the holy book…” Martha sighed feignedly, straightening her brown apron.</p><p> </p><p> " I didn't vomit.  Honestly", - Tom's eyes were cast in an unnatural turquoise color.</p><p> </p><p> “No, Tom, it's time to teach you,” Mrs. Cole sighed.</p><p> </p><p>The boy turned to the wall, blinking away tears.  Usually, the headmistress assigned to the guilty the number of blows with rods, a belt or nettles.  If she did not do this, the educated person could be flogged as much as necessary.  A week ago, Lucy Stewart was flogged for skipping the morning prayer so that she lay for three days in the infirmary.</p><p> </p><p>" Just because I'm a little late? " - Tom looked with hatred at the small chest of drawers with a crystal vase.</p><p> </p><p> “You are late and dare to tear up the holy book,” Mrs. Cole continued.  “Whether for this reason or simply because I don’t like you, you, Riddle, will have a good dose of rods.  March to the closet, and quicker! "</p><p> </p><p>She exclaimed, pointing to the door.</p><p> </p><p>The orphanage closet under the stairs was a cleaning room, but the caretaker Ernie Spencer had converted it into a whipping room.  Tom was here more often than others and knew its structure very well.  There was a wooden bench in the center.  Above it hung two skeins of rope, which was used to tie the arms and legs.  Long rods were soaking in a large bucket of brine.  With a sigh, Tom took off his trousers, then his shirt, and, shivering against the draft, shivering against the draft, lay down on the bench.  Bloody stains were visible on the floor: must have been the marks of Lucy's recent flogging.  Tom looked at them with a mixture of disgust and fear: he would have been punished one way or another, but for Mrs. Cole's objection he would no doubt get a double shot.</p><p> </p><p> "Is he here, Ernie?"  - heard a chest voice in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered.  He was ready for anything but Mrs. Rogers.  The face was covered with red spots.  He turned his head slowly.</p><p> </p><p>" Now you will sing other songs".  Mrs. Rogers waved the rod.  The soggy rod, splashing drops of brine, whistled menacingly.</p><p> </p><p> "Mrs. Rogers ... When is Mr. Spencer coming?"</p><p> </p><p> “No, Riddle,” smiled the castellan.  - This time I will explain some things to you myself.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's eyes widened.  Was he going to be flogged by a woman?  In the orphanage, this was the ultimate shame.  Tom looked disgustedly at Mrs. Rogers' brown dress and her suede open-toed shoes.  The castellan's plump fingers tied Tom's hands to the wooden mustache of the shop.  Then, skillfully passing the rope from below, the castellan tied Tom's legs to the board.</p><p> </p><p> “Today you will yell at me properly,” she remarked edifyingly.</p><p> </p><p>The whistle of the cane sounded again, and a sharp pain burned the body.  Another blow followed.  Castellans flogged slowly, crosswise.  Tom's back was covered with red stripes.  The rods whistled defiantly, and the blows became more painful.  Tom tried his best not to scream, not to betray his suffering, because that was what Mrs. Rogers wanted.  But it became more difficult to maintain composure with each blow.  Tom tried to distract himself by remembering the sake cups.  The rod, meanwhile, whistled harder, and another blow made him groan.</p><p> </p><p>" Not sweet under the rod, Riddle? " Mrs. Rogers asked with feigned kindness, picking up a new bundle.  - Don't worry, this is just the beginning.</p><p> </p><p>Tom lasted a dozen more blows, biting his lips in blood.  The pain intensified as Mrs. Rogers tried to hit the old scars.  Finally, a long rod split his back, and Tom, no longer holding back, screamed at the top of his throat.  Tears filled her eyes.  It seemed to him that he was being skinned.</p><p> </p><p> " Shout, shout ...: - the castellan cooed.  - "You, bastard ,will remember this day for a long time!"</p><p> </p><p>The back of Tom was a bloody mess.  Castellane, getting a taste, watered it with salty solution.  The cry of pain began to turn into delirium.  It seemed to him that it was not Mrs. Rogers, but the hated Brenda, whipping him to the laughter of Biggert and Stubbs.  With a last effort of will, he noticed a brown shoe by the bucket: the castellan was taking another batch of rods.</p><p> </p><p> “You just dare break my rules again,” Mrs. Rogers snorted.  - "Just dare ..."</p><p> </p><p>Tom's face was flushed, and his right shoulder was cramping.  He raised his burning eyes to the tormentor and hissed something in an incomprehensible language.  Mrs. Rogers did not understand a word, but took it as an insult.  Holding out her hand, she took a new bunch of rods and continued the flogging.  Tom shouted: the woman, it seems, deliberately, began to beat the old wounds.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, Mrs. Rogers untied the boy and left the room, slamming the door.  As soon as Tom was alone, he tried to pull on his shirt.  The fabric immediately became wet and burnt into the skin.  Tom groaned at the touch of the scars and buried his face in the pillow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Christmas cones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom opened his eyes.  He didn't know exactly how much he slept: an hour, a day, or a week.  It was getting dark outside the window.  Raindrops drummed loudly on the roof.  At the head of the bed was a metal table with medicines and bandages.  Tom tried to move his hand and groaned: the scars, hastily smeared with iodine, burned mercilessly.  At the same moment, the door opened, and James Biggert and Brenda Becky appeared in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p> "Have all the guts been released from you, cat?"  Brenda laughed.</p><p> </p><p> “Go to hell, Biggert.  What a moron”, Tom sighed wearily.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, snarl?"  Biggert took a slingshot and a rock from his pocket.</p><p> </p><p> “You're sick, Biggert”, Tom muttered.  With a premonition of pain, his eyes grew large, like two turquoise saucers.</p><p> </p><p> “Not at all, Tommy…” James fired, and Riddle groaned: the stone hit the barely tightened seam.  The festering ichor seeped down the sheet.</p><p> </p><p>Tom stared hatefully at Biggert's boots.  Even in early childhood, he discovered the secret that if you look at the feet of the offender and wish him to fall, then this is exactly what will happen.  He was not mistaken - after a moment James stretched out on the floor with a cry.</p><p> </p><p> " What happened here?"  - Martha ran into the room.  “it's not a child, it's just a punishment,” - she exclaimed, looking at Tom.</p><p> </p><p>Jane's previous nurse was a quiet kind girl who always smiled at orphans.  But two years ago, consumption took her to the grave.  Jane's place was taken by Martha, a refugee from Germany, where, according to rumors, something terrible was happening.</p><p> </p><p> "I was lying ... These two pinned themselves for some unknown reason, and Biggert fell", - Tom tried to throw a sincere look at Martha.</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle is lying,” Brenda screamed.  - He pushed James!"</p><p> </p><p> “You have your brains, Becky,” sighed Tom.  - "How could I push him if I was lying in bed?"</p><p> </p><p> “Both are quick to march out of here”, Martha grumbled.  Biggert hobbled to the door with Brenda's support.  </p><p> </p><p>“And you, Riddle, lie still, or I'll tell Mrs. Cole".  Martha's heels clattered across the tiled corridor floor.</p><p> </p><p>Something flashed at the door.  Tom looked closely.  It was undoubtedly Biggert's golden sovereign, which he boasted to his friends all the time.  Overcoming the pain, Tom hobbled to the entrance and, after a couple of unsuccessful attempts, picked up the coin.</p><p>Tom thought about it.  Conscience demanded that the sovereign be returned to James.  But how to give the coin to the main enemy?  He couldn't really come up and say, "James, here's your coin."  They could have handed over the coin to Mrs. Cole or Martha, but they would probably accuse Tom of stealing, and they would also throw in the rod.  James and Brenda will die laughing when they learn that Riddle was whipped for Biggert's coin.</p><p> </p><p> “Nothing, let it twitch,” thought Tom gloatingly and clutched the sovereign in his palm.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The frosty air was already filled with the smell of mistletoe wreaths, spruce branches, tangerines and sweets. Tom loved Christmas, although he never received a good gift.  The orphanage's gift consisted of cheap sweets, occasionally accompanied by a mandarin.  Previously, the kind nurse Jane used to stealthily treat Tom to tea with his favorite soy bars.  But Jane is dead, and it would be foolish to expect tea or bars from Martha.  Riddle often recalled with sadness how at Jane's funeral he pinched his palms so painfully so as not to cry, and at such moments he still felt especially sad.</p><p> </p><p>On December 22nd, Tom woke up at five o'clock.  At night he had a strange dream that he was walking through Mr. Barnett's shop and wanted to get into the sake cups.  The terrified Leslie Inn, who was with him, begged him not to.  But Tom, with a wry smile, split into seven ghostly Toms and scattered into the cups ...</p><p> </p><p>Jumping up quickly, Tom ran to the window.  His room was a closet with a metal bed, a table, a chair, and a crumbling wardrobe.  The early dawn light of the lanterns illuminated the fluttering of snowflakes, and the boy looked at them thoughtfully, thinking about the strange dream.</p><p> </p><p>Like all orphans, Tom lived alone.  Under the previous director, Andrew Graper, children lived in three.  But there was a law in the orphanage: the younger should serve the elders.  The little ones brought food to the "old men", cleaned their shoes and stretched out their palms to extinguish cigarettes.  The elders called them "beasts", punishing them for disobedience with kicks or beatings.  One of the kids Jerry Evans tried to rebel one day.  In response, a group of teenagers beat him to death with chains and brass knuckles.  At the same time, the brutes beat Jerry's neighbors to swoon.  The drunkard Andrew Graper was removed by the authorities, and the new director, Hannah Cole, was forbidden to settle several orphans.</p><p> </p><p>At half-past six Tom went down to the living room.  The room was already getting ready for Christmas: there was a large Christmas tree in the center.  It was dark, and only the lights of a cheap garland lit up the hall.  Inhaling the tart scent of pine needles, Tom admired the play of multi-colored lanterns in the thorny branches.</p><p> </p><p> " Hello!"  - there was a clear voice.  Tom shuddered, but immediately sighed with relief when he saw Leslie Inn smiling.</p><p> </p><p> "Hi .." - Tom looked at her warily.  Leslie was nice to him, but who knows what is on her mind?</p><p> </p><p>" Not sleeping?"  Leslie laughed.</p><p> </p><p> "Like you", - Tom was strange to see her after a dream that never left his head.</p><p> </p><p> " I can't sleep before Christmas….  When we lived with my mother, she decorated a Christmas tree for me.  We even had garlands in the form of large candles ..."</p><p> </p><p>Leslie showed up at the orphanage when Tom was four years old.  He remembered how on the first morning the girl cried at the entrance, clutching a porcelain doll in her hands.</p><p> </p><p> “I'm sorry,” Tom sighed on duty.</p><p> </p><p> "It's all right ..." Leslie smiled softly.  - I cried for two years, and then I realized: my mother is with the Lord, and I have to live on ...</p><p> “I didn't know my parents…” Tom whispered thoughtfully.</p><p> </p><p>" They say your mother gave birth to you on a terrible New Year's Eve".</p><p> </p><p>" Why is it creepy?"  Tom snorted mock, stretching out his legs.  - "You, Inn, were generally born on Halloween, like a real witch ..."</p><p> </p><p> “You know, when your mother came here, there was a terrible blizzard outside the window.  And even in the snow shadows flickered "</p><p> </p><p>Riddle knew this nonsense from the always drunk Mrs. Cole, and yet he could not take offense at Leslie.  The girl's clear voice had a calming effect on him.  Tom seemed to be in a daze, smiling at her chatter.  He barely understood when Leslie stopped talking and ran to morning prayer.  For some time Tom, as if spellbound, continued to look at the lights of the Christmas tree, and only then, as if afraid of being late, he cautiously left the living room.</p><p> </p><p> “After breakfast, everyone goes to class,” Mrs. Cole announced as she entered.  - "We will make Christmas tree decorations"</p><p>.</p><p>The classroom on the fourth floor was a small square room.  The cheap wooden tables were T-shaped.  There was no tablecloth; Mrs. Cole considered her purchase a waste of money.  On the eve of Christmas it always smelled of paint and glue, bundles of cheap colored paper lay and dusty yellow boxes with small Christmas balls were stacked in heaps.  As a child, it seemed to Tom that an impending miracle was hidden in their scent;  however, since then, he has long ceased to expect anything from Christmas.</p><p> </p><p>"Each of you, - Martha's voice broke into a slight falsetto, - should make at least one Christmas tree decoration.  It goes for you too, Riddle". she added, watching Tom sit sadly with his hand under his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Now the cat will make a crooked lantern,” Stubbs chuckled.  Several children sitting next to each other burst out laughing.</p><p>Tom looked at Billy with hate.  Despite all his efforts, he never learned how to make good crafts.  Perhaps the reason was his left-handedness.  Perhaps he was, as Mrs. Cole put it, "a rare mediocrity."  One way or another, Tom only got crooked and unkempt figures.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, have you decided what to do?,  - Leslie smiled, looking at the paste.</p><p> </p><p> “Not yet,” Tom shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>The worst thing was to realize that the other kids were making good crafts.  Lucy and Brenda made beautiful balls, and Stubbs and friends weaved figurines.  Tom, who considered himself superior to other children (and this was confirmed by his assessments), suffered from the fact that his trinkets could not compare with the toys of others.</p><p> </p><p>" Let's make the ball together?"  Leslie's brown eyes seemed to laugh.</p><p> </p><p>"And how do you do it?"  Tom asked condescendingly.</p><p> </p><p> " Here, look".  Leslie waved cheerfully a pack of cards featuring Christmas trees, angels, icebergs, airplanes, ships and even bell towers.  Then, attaching a glass to the card, she began to draw a circle.</p><p> </p><p>" Slice!"  She handed Tom the marked pictures.</p><p> </p><p>"But they?" Tom looked at first in bewilderment, but then, taking scissors, began to cut circles.</p><p> </p><p>"Hurry up, lefty," Leslie smiled.  </p><p> </p><p>Tom snorted, but noticing her smile, he cut faster.  Colored scraps covered the table.  Leslie took each circle and curled the edges with small, plump fingers.</p><p> </p><p>"Hold ... "Tom watched in amazement as Leslie quickly spreads paste on the mugs and glues them.  -" That's all!"  - the girl spun the ball.</p><p> </p><p>“Great…” Tom whispered.</p><p> </p><p>"Shall we make another one?"  Leslie pulled out a new pack of Christmas candle postcards.  Without a word, she began to draw circles.  Tom smiled and began to cut postcards quickly.</p><p> </p><p> “Now we have two,” Leslie finally breathed.</p><p> </p><p>Christmas candles were visible in every division of the ball.  They were big and small, simple and twisted, white, yellow and red.  They hung on branches of fir trees, stood on the fireplace or just on a table.  But not one candle repeated the other.</p><p> </p><p>"Are we carrying it?"  Leslie asked.  - "I am the first ball, and you are the second ..."</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied, Tom took the ball of candles.  It was hard to believe, but Tom Riddle, the boy who never smiled, was beaming with joy.  In the confusion, he did not notice Brenda whispering something to Stubbs with a grin, Lucy looked at her best friend with hatred, and James and Eric, putting aside their crafts, followed them.</p><p> </p><p> "Miss Martha, we're ready!"  - light Leslie even jumped with delight.</p><p> </p><p>" Thank you, dear ... " - Martha, for some unknown reason, loved this girl.  - "Look, Riddle sat on your tail?"</p><p> </p><p>" Not.  Tom and I made balls together", Leslie said softly.  </p><p> </p><p>Tom gave Martha an unfriendly look. Without saying a word, they ran out of the class.  Leslie climbed onto the windowsill.  Tom leaned against him and looked out the window.  Small snowflakes covered the mud with white grains.  In the distance, merging with the smoke of the factory chimneys, a huge snow cloud was gathering.  It seemed to him that she smiled an evil smile.  He shuddered.  All the coldest and most evil seemed to be concentrated in this cloud.</p><p> </p><p>" Let's go for a walk?"  Leslie's soft voice brought him out of his stupor.</p><p> </p><p> "If you can ... - Tom shrugged.  - But where?"</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t know… - Leslie hesitated.  - Maybe where you run away all the time?"</p><p> </p><p>"To Mr. Barnett's shop?  Thought Tom.  - Why not?"  </p><p> </p><p>One half of the soul said that you should not give out shelter.  The other half was delighted.  A few minutes later they walked up the stairs, throwing on their well-worn winter coats.</p><p> </p><p>The  Tom's biggest problems was not knowing how to tie the scarf well, as did the laces.  His scarf, unlike other children, always either hung in a lump, or crawled out from under the hem of his cloak, or pulled out at one end from under the collar.  Whatever Tom tried to do with it, the scarf would still bulge, wrinkle, or hang like a rag.  Other children constantly laughed at Tom's inability to tie him correctly around his thin neck.</p><p> </p><p> “Wait a minute…” Leslie smiled and straightened his scarf as she left.  Tom smiled: the hem of the scarf suddenly became even and stopped crawling from his neck.</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you,” Tom smiled, looking at the lanterns near the carved fence.</p><p> </p><p>In the hallway on the second floor were worn cupboards containing old hats, boots, and Christmas tree decorations — cheap toys shaped like little navy and crimson balls.  Tom looked at them and remembered how, a few years ago, on the eve of Christmas, he carefully examined these cabinets, trying to find some old toy for his room.  He accidentally touched a yellow cardboard box with new balls, which shattered into many pieces.  Only the Japanese from a shop three blocks away somehow managed to fix them.  But Tom that evening was whipped with a belt so that the shirt stuck to the body from the blood.  Tom came to breakfast on Sunday, all in bandages.</p><p> </p><p>Oliver Barnett's shop greeted them with a festive bustle.  Visitors looked at the elegant shelving.  Some of them had fashionable white scarves draped over black drape coats.  A tall gentleman with a briefcase was asking the price of that same "monkey service".  Two girls in inexpensive boas were paying for Indian incense.</p><p> </p><p> " Hi Tom.  Today you are not alone ..." - Mr. Barnett winked.</p><p> </p><p> "Leslie with me," Tom nodded.  The girl stopped by the shelf and looked at the oriental trinkets.</p><p> </p><p>" Wonderful ... Wait, I will meet a visitor"- Oliver Barnett waved his hand to the elderly lady who entered.</p><p> </p><p>Looking at the counter, Tom noticed The Times.  On the front page, the strange words "Hitler", "Reichstag", "Blomberg" *, "Hora-Ribbentrop Agreement"  Tom had no idea what it was.  But in the photo there were many people in uniforms sitting.  Another man walked to the stage with his right hand thrown forward.  On his other arm was a bandage with a spider-shaped sign.  The same spider flaunted above the floodlit tribune.</p><p> </p><p> " What is it?"  Tom asked.</p><p> </p><p> "It?   Oh, these are the Nazis"- approached Mr. Barnett adjusted his glasses.</p><p> </p><p> " So it is about them all say that they are insane?"</p><p> </p><p> “You're right, Tom.  The Nazis are angry and insane.  And much more than many people think", - answered the owner of the shop with a slight sadness.</p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered.  Mr. Barnett’s words left him unpleasant.  Happy Leslie, while bewitched, looked at the service with pagodas.</p><p> </p><p> “My God…” she whispered in horror, pointing to a mask made of wood.</p><p> </p><p>"Death mask from French Africa.  The sorcerer puts it on at the funeral.  Very expensive.  Oliver Barnett put his glasses on the newspaper".</p><p> </p><p>" Leslie ... What are you doing?"  Tom looked at her blankly.</p><p> </p><p> The girl looked at the black mask with mute horror, as if something dangerous and evil really lurked in it.</p><p> </p><p> “He's looking at me, the girl murmured.  - My doom ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Fine… I have Christmas presents for you,” Oliver Barnett handed the children two chocolates, as if trying to smooth out the awkwardness.</p><p> </p><p> “Thanks…” Tom muttered.</p><p> </p><p>It seemed to him that the shopkeeper was ashamed of the mask, and he looked condemningly at the African trinket.  Leslie nodded absently.  Tom was amazed that the mask frightened her so much, but tried not to show it. Closer to the exit, Leslie began to cough.  Tom waited for her to leave and then helped her up the steps.  The dry snow pellets turned into a wet blizzard, and large flakes covered with a sheer wall the unfrozen puddles.</p><p> </p><p>"Just look, Tom, what a miracle…. " - ... Leslie, as if coming out of oblivion, pulled her friend by the hand.</p><p> </p><p>On the opposite side of the street was a shop with Christmas decorations.  A set of Christmas cones lay in the window next to the garlands.  But what!  Yellow, with greenish tops, made of thin glass.  Each cone was different in shape from the others: some were golden and thick, others were green and elongated, and one seemed like a huge fluffy fruit from an unknown coniferous tree.  The light of the garland played merrily in the glass edges.</p><p> </p><p> “Imagine if you buy them,” Tom whispered.</p><p> </p><p> “What are you, Tom.  They're worth a fortune ..", sighed Leslie.</p><p> </p><p> "Nothing ... We'll save up in a couple of years.  Let's go?" said Tom confidently. </p><p> </p><p> " Let's see more ... Tom", - Leslie, as if spellbound, looked at the cones sparkling with lights.</p><p> </p><p> “But Leslie”,  Tom laughed.  - "We can come here tomorrow.  And the day after tomorrow.  And in general, when we wish!"</p><p> </p><p>The girl smiled and, taking some snow, threw it at Tom.  He snorted and showered Leslie with dust.  They began to run after each other, throwing snowballs.  It was a very good time, and Tom wanted it to never end.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> * * *</p><p> </p><p>It was already dark when Tom and Leslie returned to the orphanage.  The girl seemed tired, and barely moved her legs.  Tom thought she was tired of the walk.  Or did she really have a cold?  Having run past the cast-iron fence, the children dived into the yard.</p><p> </p><p> "So, Leslie….   Got yourself a cat?"  Brenda's sarcastic voice rang out. </p><p> </p><p> Tom turned around and immediately noticed all the hated company, standing near the icy gate.</p><p> </p><p> “Get out, Becky,” Tom hissed hatefully.</p><p> </p><p> “Wow... Is the cat already hissing?  Looks like you give him a good drink of milk, Inn!"  Stubbs laughed. </p><p> </p><p> “Be sure to buy a whip for naughty cats, Leslie,” Brenda laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Tom quickly blinded a snowball and hit her on the shoulder.  Becky yelped and jumped to the side.</p><p> </p><p>" So? Well, get it!" Shouted Stubbs.  </p><p> </p><p>Leslie threw a snowball at Billy.  Biggert ran out to help Brenda and Stubbs.  A snowy duel ensued.  Leslie threw a lot, but rarely hit.  But Tom's snowballs hit hard and well.  With one blow, he knocked Biggert's cap off.  Leslie happily threw snowballs at him.  Out of breath, she took off her red knitted hat and hung it on a branch.</p><p> </p><p>" Well, wait, Inn!  Stubbs exclaimed.  </p><p> </p><p>Taking aim, he threw the ball at Leslie.  Swinging, the girl fell to the ground.</p><p> </p><p> “Here you go, rabbit lover,” Tom put a snowball in Stubbs's head.</p><p> </p><p>Billy howled in pain.  Tom looked around and was surprised to see Leslie lying on the ground.  A foreboding pricked his heart.  Ignoring Biggert and Brenda's snowballs, the boy ran to her.</p><p> </p><p> “Leslie… Leslie, wake up" . Tom whispered. </p><p> </p><p>The girl did not move.  Tom turned her head, and was horrified to see blood pouring from her throat.  Suffering was frozen in his brown eyes.</p><p> </p><p> “Call the doctor, you cretins,” Tom shouted, pushing Biggert's snowball away.</p><p> </p><p>The blood began to flow harder.  Leslie wheezed, choking on her cough.  The trickle of blood on his cheek froze in a sinuous trail.  Tom, holding her head, stared blankly at the dark winter sky.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>On Christmas Eve, Tom woke up again at about five.  It was unusually cold: the shelter heating seemed to be malfunctioning.  Footsteps came from the corridor.  Tom thought it was Mrs. Rogers doing the morning round.  He wrapped himself in a blanket and pretended to be asleep: he did not want to once again catch the eye of the castellan if she suddenly looked into his room.</p><p> </p><p>The day before yesterday evening, Dr. Rochester took Leslie to the hospital, diagnosing progressive tuberculosis.  Tom overheard their conversation in Mrs. Cole's office.  From the doctor's lengthy explanations, he realized that hypothermia and low humidity were the cause of the attack.  </p><p> </p><p>“I cannot do artificial inflation in an acute period. But the attacks of this disease often go away as suddenly as they begin" the doctor said.</p><p> </p><p>It took about ten minutes before Tom realized that it was not Gemma Rogers.  The thud of heels was hard.  Burning with curiosity, Tom opened the door.  Martha stood on a stool and covered the mirror with a white sheet.</p><p> </p><p>" Why did you close the mirror?"  Tom asked, and stopped short.  </p><p> </p><p>Martha wore an ash dress and a black scarf thrown over her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p> “This is none of your business, Riddle".  Martha's voice trembled treacherously.</p><p> </p><p> “No… it touches…” Tom said dryly, watching Martha close the shutters.  </p><p> </p><p>"Speak the truth!"  - he exclaimed in an unknown impulse.</p><p> </p><p>" Well ... - Martha looked at Tom in shock.  - It's just Leslie ... She's very bad ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Is that why you hung up the mirror?  Is that why you closed the shutters?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at Martha intently.  A strange picture swam before my eyes.  It seemed to the boy that he was standing in Mrs. Cole's office, and she, heartbroken, said that the body would be delivered by noon.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes,” Martha whispered.  - In the evening Leslie had a new attack.  The doctor on duty did not manage to reach the ward.  She…"</p><p> </p><p> "She died ..."  - Tom's face seemed to turn to stone.  He seemed unwilling to listen to the sequel.</p><p> </p><p>" Tom, understand: Leslie has been called by the Lord ... Only he decides ...."</p><p> </p><p>"Not true!:  Tom shouted in a frenzy.  “Those damned doctors didn't treat her".</p><p> </p><p>" You can't say that ... - Martha looked at him with fear.  - I'm sorry…"</p><p> </p><p>Not hearing her words, Tom ran into the living room: he hardly understood what was really going on.  The Christmas tree still smelled of resin and needles, only now Tom thought it was the smell of grave wreaths.  Although, maybe this is a mistake?  Maybe the other Leslie died?  You never know in the world some Leslie Lynn or Leslie Djinn ... Tom initially decided that it was so.  But Martha hung the mirror, and he saw, as in reality, the conversation with the director ... Tom looked at the lamps and felt emptiness.  The terrible truth was painfully simple.  Leslie is gone.  She's not coming back.</p><p> </p><p>Tom flopped into a chair.  At the very top of the tree hung a ribbed ball with pictures of candles. Tom thought with a shudder that it was not true, that he must still be asleep and will now wake up.  No, Leslie is not dead.  People like Leslie can't just die like this, it shouldn't be that way.  Tom remembered how he and Leslie glued the mugs, and felt his face become wet.  It took him a while to realize that tears were rolling down his cheeks.  The boy quickly wiped his face with a handkerchief, but they started to run again.</p><p> </p><p>Closer to dinner, Tom woke up.  He was still sitting in the chair, an open book lay on his lap.  Tom looked around the living room, trying to figure out where he was and how he got here.  And then he remembered.  Shock gave way to emptiness, just as terrible.  Terrible because Leslie is gone forever, that he will never see her again.  Tom tried to clench his fists, but nothing helped.  Tears continued to crawl, covering the garlands and needles with a damp veil.  Nothing made sense.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Snake and Rabbit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom was no less than miserable for ages.  The shock of the loss passed, giving way to a dull, aching pain.  It seemed to him that he was losing a liter of blood every day.  When classes began again, he studied as hard as ever.  Most of the time he looked lost and avoided contact with others as much as possible.  He spent most of his time reading - on the windowsill, on the floor, by the porch, and when it got warmer, then near the cast-iron fence.  When Tom was not sitting with his head buried in a book, he felt depressed.</p><p> </p><p>He remembered all the details of that dreadful New Year's Day.  Chandelier and mirror covered with black crepe.  The sickening smell of funeral pine needles.  Lying in the coffin Leslie, who in a transparent dress seemed like a sleeping angel.  For a moment, it seemed to Tom that the girl was even happy that the doctors finally allowed her soul to be freed from torment, but he immediately drove this thought away.  There was nothing worse than one kind of funeral garlands, a transparent shroud and a coffin pillow.</p><p> </p><p>By early February, Tom was completely estranged from the other children and looked lost.  He became so taciturn that he didn't seem to need anybody's company.  In his free time, he wandered around London for hours, returning to the orphanage only for dinner.  During these endless walks, Tom went far beyond the St. Pancras area, sometimes even as far as the City.  On the other hand, he had not gone to Vauxhall Road or Mr. Barnett's shop since the day of Leslie's death: the memory of that day was still too painful.</p><p> </p><p>Gradually, Tom began to communicate with the other orphans again, although he kept aloof.  The pain of loss was replaced by hatred for Billy Stubbs.  An inner voice reminded him that Leslie had been outside all day, and that she was also playing snowballs with him.  But Tom pressed that voice: he had long ago decided to himself that it was Stubbs who was to blame.  To make Billy suffer, to hurt him as much as possible, has now become his dream.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>Tom walked slowly over the cobblestones.  The high April sky was spring blue.  The deep azure, together with the gentle late afternoon air, conjured up memories.  The old evening rose before my eyes, when the orphanage children were taken from an excursion in London.  Most of them chatted merrily with each other, and only Tom looked out the window alone, catching the alluring languor in the evening light of the lanterns.</p><p> </p><p>The concrete wall of the factory was replaced by a labyrinth of factory back streets.  The two-story houses seemed crooked because of the street running downhill.  There was a steady smell of mud in the air: the Thames flowed somewhere nearby.  The white lilacs blooming in the front gardens gave the blue sky a premonition of imminent summer.  Women were gossiping at the porches.  The kids were playing football fun on a grassy alley.  On the opposite side of the street, Tom noticed a pub whose dusty windows seemed dull even in the sun.  Glancing at the piece of pipe sticking out of the puddle, he opened the heavy door.</p><p> </p><p> " What do you want, kid?" The burly bartender grinned, twisting the bottle.  The hall smelled of sour beer.</p><p> </p><p> “Half a pint of soda,” Tom laid out a coin neatly.</p><p> </p><p>" Wow.   You will go far, boy!" The bartender gave him a mocking look, but took the coin and siphoned off half a pint glass. </p><p> </p><p>There were chuckles from the side of the bar.  Tom winced.  He remembered how, as a child, brute Patrick Phelps, for fun, broke his arm with kicks.  When he woke up, he noticed Nurse Jane putting on a cast, sadly saying "my lovely china boy."  Those were the only sweet words Tom had ever heard in his entire life.</p><p> </p><p>Tom felt his eyes wet with tears.  He looked around.  At the next table sat a blond old man with a torn collar.  His partner was a tall man of about forty, who constantly coughed and covered his mouth with his hand.  Tom immediately dubbed him "consumptive".</p><p> </p><p> "Once the cabinet was formed by old Neville , we will definitely surrender to Hitler", - the old man snorted.</p><p> </p><p> “But the Nazis don't like the Bolsheviks” the tipsy comrade argued.</p><p> </p><p> “They’re crazy… Have you seen their buttonholes with oak leaves and their caps with skulls?  Have you seen how they burn books?" - the old man grumbled, twitching his greasy neck as if his collar was too small.</p><p> </p><p> "How is it - burning books? " Tom blurted out and immediately shuddered.  He is not used to talking to strangers.</p><p> </p><p>" Just.  The gray? -haired man looked at him with interest.  -" They lit fires and threw books there, which were considered harmful."</p><p> </p><p> “They also have a mark that looks like a spider”, Tom muttered, shivering at the thought of such bonfires.</p><p> </p><p>" Look: even such a kid has heard of the swastika!"  - the old man wondered.  "You are right: these crazy people replaced the cross with a black spider ..."</p><p> </p><p>It seemed to him that he was sitting on a shabby park bench and holding a newspaper.  On the centerfold was a photograph of a huge building topped with a large black spider.  The picture changed, and now he stands in the crowd at the rally.  What if the old man thought about it?</p><p> </p><p>" Why have I not seen the boshes? " - rustled a thin man, obviously a former sailor in bearing.  -" They stick in - they will get it in the nose again".</p><p> </p><p>"So they now have what kind of planes ..." - someone blurted out.</p><p> </p><p> “They lie more,” the sailor snorted contemptuously.</p><p> </p><p>The pub buzzed.  The bartender was shouting something to the domino players.  Some argued that Hitler was right in fighting smoking.  Others replied that a Bosch without a cigarette and black coffee is not a Bosch: forbidding him to smoke is a sure way to lose power.</p><p> </p><p> “It’s as if some kind of force is helping their mad Fuhrer,” the old man sighed.  - Look, crazy psycho, but he succeeds . As if by magic"</p><p> </p><p>The pendulum clock showed the beginning of seven.  Tom thought with horror that he was late for dinner.  Jumping off the chair, he rushed to the door and a minute later ran down the street, breathing light spring air.  A crowd was pouring out of the cinema, ignoring the black cars signaling at the traffic lights.  "There is no magic," - as the spell repeated Tom.  But every time he repeated this phrase, a sign in the form of a spider rose before his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Tom ran to the shelter at dusk.  Lanterns cast a ghostly light on the old maple tree.  The evening haze swirled in a light mist near the gravestones.  Having crossed the tram tracks, Tom stopped at the poster board and looked at the advertisement:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hurry up!  Only here, until May 15, the unforgettable Liza Ciniselli, the world's best lion tamer, will perform!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Below was a drawing of a girl in a blue tunic, walking with a mocking smile near the lying lions.  The girl held a long whip in her hand.  It seemed to Tom that there was a vicious playfulness in her blue-gray eyes.  Mrs Cole said his mother was "circus".  The boy shivered with disgust at the memory of her words.</p><p> </p><p>From small nails, Tom hated the circus.  Riders, clowns and hunchbacks irritated him.  He did not admire acrobats: he considered their numbers a scam, using some kind of secret.  He liked fakirs even less: once in the attic he found a book about the secrets of tricks, and since then he did not believe a single idea.  But the most painful thing was watching the parents buy their children sweet water and cakes: these spoiled boys and girls seemed to Tom unfit for life zeros.</p><p> </p><p>Running into the orphanage, Tom listened.  Silhouettes of teenagers in caps were visible in the gazebo.  They smoked cigarettes and laughed.  Brenda sat on the curb, her long thin legs dangling.  Erik Volley was spinning nearby, making pirouettes.</p><p> </p><p> "Well, show the giraffe", - the big man laughed.  - "How do they eat, huh?" </p><p> </p><p>Erik reached up, folded his arms at his chest and grabbed a branch with buds in his mouth.  There was a burst of laughter, and the other big man kicked Volley on the back. Tom looked with hatred at the gazebo: it was the same Patrick Phelps, surrounded by vassals - Ron Steamer and Martin Fail.  Their company tortured Tom more than once: sometimes out of boredom, sometimes for Brenda's entertainment.  It was they who broke Tom's arm, and it was still a trifle.  Once, when Riddle tossed a couple of slugs into Brenda's shoes, they tied him with a fishing line to a tree and kicked him, and Becky was pleased with the sight.</p><p> </p><p> "Ashtray, beast!"  Patrick exclaimed.  - :Voluntarily stretched out his palm, and the bruiser, under the screams of Eric, extinguished the butt on her.</p><p> </p><p>Entering the hallway, Tom looked around.  A girl with her white hair down to her shoulders stood by the plush chair.  The snub-nosed face was strewn with freckles.</p><p> </p><p> "Hello! what is your name?:  Tom asked softly.</p><p> </p><p>The girl blinked her tear-stained eyelids.  The light from a cheap shade illuminated her short blue dress, strewn with white polka dots.</p><p> </p><p> “Amy… Amy Benson…” she babbled.</p><p> </p><p> " And I'm Tom ... Tom Riddle ... How old are you?"</p><p> </p><p> “Seven…” the girl sobbed.  - My parents crashed in the car.  They named me Amy - sweetheart.  What does your name mean?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom thought about it.  He didn't want to tell Amy that cats were called Toms.  But nothing else came to mind.</p><p> </p><p> " I don't know…"</p><p> </p><p> “Of course… Tom is the most common name…” the girl nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Riddle was distorted.  All his sympathy for Amy vanished at once.</p><p> </p><p> " What, Tommy?  Is the cat looking for a new owner?"  - Tom cursed.  Stubbs and Bishop ran up the creaking steps.</p><p> </p><p> “Don't be afraid,” Bishop winked at a startled Amy.  - "Tom is a harmless cat.  Just sits and reads or walks around the orphanage like a ghost".</p><p> </p><p>" And if you drink condensed milk, you will become tame", - giggled Stubbs.  -"Leslie just had a drink ..."</p><p> </p><p>Tom's eyes flashed with a strange light.  If someone else was talking about Leslie, he might have taken it easy ... But Stubbs!  Riddle felt the rage, like an awakening volcano, take possession of every cell.</p><p> </p><p> “You know, Billy,” Tom spat hatefully.  - You will pay for Leslie ... Maybe, - he grinned, - your bunny will die?"</p><p> </p><p>A roar of rage interrupted his words.  Billy hit Tom in the lip with full force.  The man jumped back, staring in disgust at the black and white tiles.  Due to his fragile physique, he had no chance of winning a fight.</p><p> </p><p>" What happened?"  Mrs. Cole ran from the corridor.  - "God, - she sighed, - where Riddle, there are troubles ... Quickly march into the room", - the headmistress grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him along.</p><p> </p><p> "You will not flog me ..." - said the Tom  warily.</p><p> </p><p> “Not today,” Mrs. Cole snapped.  “But you’ll sit in the room all evening,”</p><p> </p><p>With these words, the headmistress grabbed Tom's left wrist and abruptly twisted his hand.  Tom flinched in pain.  He was left-handed, which means that now it will be difficult for him to write even a line for at least a couple of days.  A salty trickle of blood trickled down his lip.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>Tom spent the whole evening locked up, sending an excellent portion of curses to Stubbs and Mrs. Cole.  At night he had a dream that he was standing at Leslie's coffin next to a mirror.  The girl called him through the looking glass, where the figures of the Nazis flashed.  Tom woke up in a cold sweat.  Going to the sink, he looked in the mirror and noted that he was beginning to look like Mrs. Cole.  He shuddered in disgust.  He poured water into the sink to try and wash his hair somehow.  Tom always tried to be clean, probably because he constantly had to deal with dirty people.</p><p> </p><p>Tom plopped down on the creaky bed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the annoying hunger: yesterday because of Mrs. Cole he was left without dinner.  However, considering what kind of rubbish they fed there ("probably a burnt casserole," the boy thought), it is still unknown which was better.  Looking at the wallpaper as a brick pattern, Tom began to think about his mother.  He didn’t want to think that she was spinning around the circus arena, climbing a tightrope to the accompaniment of laughter, or riding a pony to the hooting of the crowd.  As a child, Tom believed that one day a thin woman like him with long black hair and turquoise eyes would come to the orphanage.  Then she will take him by the hand and lead him to another world.  Once at Christmas, Tom saw garlands in the form of multi-colored candles in the window.  Then he dreamed of how he and his mother would hang garlands on the Christmas tree.  However, all these were fairy tales from childhood.  After straightening the edge of the holey woolen blanket, the boy left the room.</p><p> </p><p>Tom was at a loss at breakfast.  Biggert and Stubbs were again discussing some kind of plan - apparently about how to call to account the rebellious riffraff from the neighboring courtyards.  Lost in thought, the boy thought sadly that he didn’t even have a photograph of Leslie.  Then Tom suddenly imagined Mrs. Rogers lying at his feet, writhing in pain, and he felt a little relieved.  He was brought out of his oblivion by the screams of Brenda playing with the yo-yo.  Tom grimaced: yesterday, April 5th, was her birthday.</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle, do you need a special invitation?"  Martha shouted.</p><p> </p><p> "Mmmm".  - Tom hesitated, looking at the barely begun portion of barley.  Despite the constant feeling of hunger, he felt disgust at the sight of porridge and boiled vegetables.</p><p> </p><p> “We're going into the woods,” Martha said condescendingly.  </p><p> </p><p>Several orphans, about eight years old, burst out laughing, twisting a finger at their temples.  Tom gave them a hateful look. On the bus, Tom looked at the well-kept houses and trams.  At closed restaurants, Hindu street sweepers were sweeping the entrances. Closer to the outskirts went old churches and new respectable houses in the form of towers.  Tom noticed a small cloud in the blue of the spring sky.  It may have been an illusion, but it seemed to him as if it was getting bigger.</p><p> </p><p>"Faster, faster, get out", - Martha hurriedly waved her hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Go  to me!", - a stocky man in a tracksuit waved a flag.  It was Anthony Ilkz, the scout leader.  </p><p> </p><p>"We build up and break into teams", - he showed with small chubby hands.  “The boys are taking the ball, the girls are running for the baton… You, Riddle, sit on the sidelines,” he said with a little contempt.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked down sadly at the ground.  Last year, he was the only one who could not pull up on the horizontal bar and run the cross without shortness of breath.  Probably, running was the worst punishment for Tom: after a few minutes he began to choke, feeling an unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.  Guessing that everyone would run and play ball this year, he took a book with him.</p><p> </p><p> “The cat's going to read the book,” Biggert snorted.  </p><p> </p><p>Lucy Stewart and her new friend, Catherine Bale, laughed loudly.  Tom threw an unpleasant glance at them, and, amid general laughter, trudged to the edge.</p><p> </p><p>It was clear, but unusually cold.  The flowers emitted a tart aroma, giving it to slightly blossoming buds.  Many slugs were crawling in the grass.  Trying not to step on them, Tom went to the ravine, and, stumbling, rolled down.  Getting up, he rubbed his bruised leg, and then, spreading the blanket he had taken from the shelter, sat on it and plunged into reading.</p><p> </p><p>A faint hiss distracted him.  Looking around, Tom noticed gray rings wriggling between a half-rotten tree stump.  It was undoubtedly a snake.  Tom quickly removed his leg: vipers were considered incredibly vicious and dangerous creatures.  However, the serpentine hiss became meaningful: it seemed to Tom that words could be discerned in it.  The boy excitedly stretched out his hand, and the black rings immediately wrapped around it.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Hi</em>”,hissed a garden hose-like viper.</p><p> </p><p> "<em>Hi</em>", - Tom stroked her head.  - "<em>I didn’t know that snakes can speak"</em>.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>No, no, that is you know how to talk with snakes, Master"</em>,  the snake hissed.</p><p> </p><p> <em>"True?  Sometimes these words sounded in my head ... I thought it was some kind of nonsense"</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I<em>t's a Parseltongue </em>” The deadly rings wrapped around the leg more and more.  - "Y<em>ou are a Paraselmouths ... Each of us, s-s-s will willingly come to your aid, Little  Master</em> ".</p><p> </p><p>The rings, wriggling rapidly, began to hide under the snag.  Riddle looked up.  Everything that happened was too incredible to be true.</p><p> </p><p> "Oh, who I see!  My friend the cat! “</p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered.   Patrick and Brenda’s company came to the edge of the cliff.  </p><p> </p><p>"Can you tell me a rhyme?"  - the big guy clapped his hands to the general laughter.</p><p> </p><p>One day, when Tom was five years old, he recited the fifth psalm by heart.  Since then, Patrick and his entourage have caught him in the corridor and, pinching his ribs with their feet, mockingly asked him to "recite a rhyme."  If Tom didn’t agree, he was beaten.  If he agreed, he received kicks and blows "in gratitude."</p><p> </p><p> "Don't come close to me, Phelps," Tom spat hatefully.  "Stay away, or I'll set a snake on you and Becky".</p><p> </p><p> "Wow!   Our Tommy will become impudent before our eyes.  It's been a long time since you were taught life, my friend ..." Snorted Patrick.  </p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered: he well remembered the beatings from which it was impossible to get up for a whole week.  Usually, while he was in the infirmary, Patrick visited him, threatening him with a syringe or promising to beat him as a gift to recover.  However, now it was not Patrick who blocked Tom's way, but the lanky Martin Feil, one of the shelter guys who were part of his company and enjoyed the special patronage of his leader.</p><p> </p><p> “You're just a complete nonentity, Riddle,” a predatory grin slid across Martin's face.  - "An underdeveloped nonentity!  They kick you and beat you and throw stones at you, but you still cannot learn to resist!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom had no idea what they were going to do to him, but he knew that nothing good would follow from it.  Martin took a step, his round gray eyes burning with impatience.  Tom, hunted, looked around.  The answer was a friendly laugh.  Seeking protection convulsively, Tom, unexpectedly for himself, hissed something.</p><p> </p><p>" What are you doing there now, Riddle?"  - Martin grinned.</p><p> </p><p>The veil of last year's oak leaves stirred quietly, and a moment later Brenda's desperate screeching was heard.  Shocked, Tom only had time to notice that a thick gray ribbon crawled from her feet.  The boy barely noticed how the other children came running to Brenda's shrill cry, and the frightened Patrick backed away, clearly trembling with fear.  Tom looked at him excitedly, it was his chance to avenge everything.</p><p> </p><p>" Afraid of snakes, right??  Tom asked vengefully.  "<em>Crawl home, friend</em>!"  - he whispered, looking at the rings quickly hiding in the grass.</p><p> </p><p><em>" Yes, Master"</em>, - the snake rustled, crawling to the snag.</p><p> </p><p>" What happened?  - From the crowd of children who ran up, Mr. Ilkz ran out.</p><p> </p><p> " Riddle set a snake on me! " - Brenda's thin leg was oozing blood, and the girl desperately bit her lip in pain.</p><p> </p><p> “Calm down, Miss Becky.  The viper's bite is not fatal ... Now we will take you to the hospital"- Martha muttered.  - "What happened here?"</p><p> </p><p> " Riddle said something incomprehensible in a strange language, and suddenly a huge snake crawled out of the bushes!"  Lanky Martin Feil babbled, pointing to the bushes.  - "Riddle hissed something to her, and the viper attacked her!"</p><p> </p><p> "Explain, Tom!  Martha said sternly".</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t know, ma'am…” Tom sighed.  - Becky probably stepped on a snake, or maybe she just crawled ... Don't you think that I command snakes?"  - he asked, looking at Martha and Ilkz.</p><p> </p><p>Martha gave Tom a suspicious look.  Mr. Ilkz wrinkled his forehead desperately, trying to figure out what was what.  He, of course, understood that all this was complete nonsense.  But Brenda was bitten by a snake, and Riddle had something to do with it.  Tom looked at them with a sinking heart.  Although they would hardly believe he was talking to snakes, Mrs. Cole should have used the incident as an excuse to whip the boy she hated.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m not counting anything, Riddle!  All the march to the bus is alive", - ordered Martha at last.  - "And with you, Tom, I'll talk at the shelter".</p><p> </p><p>The children hobbled over to the bus.  Patrick and his friends helped put Brenda onto the tarp.  The sweet smell of an approaching shower was in the air.  Tom shuddered and picked up the lying yo-yo toy.  Damp sweat covered his forehead and his hands trembled.  Brenda had just been bitten by the snake, and it was he, Tom Riddle, who made her do it.  What if other animals obeyed him too?  An incredible thought flashed through his head, and Tom, looking up at the blackening sky, trembled with a mixture of fear and delight.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p><br/>Throwing back the blanket, Tom jumped off the creaking bed.  Dressed quickly, he pressed the fine springy mesh again.  It was approaching midnight, and he quietly closed the door and went out into the courtyard.  The black velvet sky was illuminated by the icy light of the stars.</p><p> </p><p> “He wants to live,” a thin voice whispered in his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Didn't Leslie want to?"  - retorted another, tall and malicious.</p><p> </p><p> “What is the fault of the animal?  Than?"  - argued a child's voice.</p><p> </p><p> "Jimmy is Stubbs's stupid bunny," chuckled a cold voice.  - Think: tomorrow Stubbs will be hurt, very painful . ”</p><p> </p><p>Tom did not even notice how, arguing with himself, he went to the cages.  The orphanage was a small room with a glass roof.  Once there was a greenhouse where children grew vegetables, fruits and took care of wild ducks.  But even before Tom was born, a gang of big boys bought a fox and happily watched him gnaw a good mallard with a drake.  Then the greenhouse was closed: the always drunk Andrew Graper and Hannah Cole did not have the money to repair.  Only recently did the caretaker Ernie Spencer rebuild the greenhouse into an aviary.</p><p> </p><p>The aviary adjoined the orphanage, a wooden cube about four feet high with small narrow windows and bright green beams that supported the roof.  Tom pushed the door shut with his shoulder and waited for the rabbit, obedient to his silent command, to be inside the barn. As soon as Tom turned the key, a couple of goldfinches rustled.  There was not a minute to waste: if the poultry house woke up, Ernie Spencer would come running to the noise, and then it would certainly be unpleasant.  The boy quickly lit a cheap yellow candle and looked around.</p><p> </p><p> “Jimmy…” he whispered, extending his left hand.  The gray ball slept near the grass feeder.</p><p> </p><p>" Jimmy, get up, you stupid thing ..."</p><p> </p><p>The frightened rabbit ran to the door.  Tom quickly opened it and looked up.  The bran bag rope was in place.  In the center was a noose on which Mr. Spencer hung a load.  The rabbit, twitching its ears amusingly, sat down on its hind legs, froze for a few seconds, then jumped out of the cage onto the wooden floor of the greenhouse.</p><p> </p><p> “Go ahead,” Tom commanded.  </p><p> </p><p>His wet eyes were blue-green. The rabbit ran to the wall, ears tucked in.  Obeying an unknown force, he approached the wooden beam.  Tom waited for the rabbit to scratch to the closest wall of the pen and took a step back.</p><p> </p><p>" Up! " He ordered.  The animal desperately climbed onto the rafters.</p><p> </p><p>Tom felt like he was in a circus.  The rabbit first performed various intricate jumps, jumped high and did somersaults.  But gradually Tom noticed that fear was frozen in the eyes of the beast.  The rabbit seemed to be beside himself with fear, although he obeyed all commands without a murmur.  Tom felt a strange euphoria: the animal completely obeyed him!  Blood pulsed in his temples, rainbow circles danced before his eyes.  There was a noise in my ears, as if some unknown force was opening some passages in my head.  Like a toy, thought Tom, looking at the snuggled ears of the rushing rabbit.</p><p> </p><p> " Leap into the noose ... Paws down ..." - Closing his eyes, Tom imagined how the noose would close around the neck of the beast.</p><p> </p><p> Clutching his eyelids, he increasingly imagined a picture of a noose strangling the animal's neck, and that food cannot escape from it.</p><p>There was silence in the greenhouse for a while.  Tom was already beginning to think that his order had not worked, until finally, from somewhere above, a faint wheeze was heard.  Tom opened his eyes and screamed.  The animal's gray body dangled in a loop, its hind legs hanging down.  Dead ears wrapped around the muzzle, as if begging for mercy in the end.</p><p> </p><p> "I will do whatever you want, just take off the loop ..." - as if a dead animal was praying.</p><p> </p><p>The sight was disgusting.  The boy turned pale and ran as fast as he could out of the enclosure.  Jumping out into the yard, he grabbed the old maple and only then realized that he could not go further.  The shortness of breath grew more and more, and Tom, unable to bear it, began to bend his knees.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m a killer… a killer,” Tom whispered in horror.  - God, what have I done?</p><p> </p><p>The cruelty was gone, and a sense of loss came instead.  As a child, Tom almost cried when kind Jane told him about the gnawed duck that the children were hand-fed.  Now he became the same killer as those brutes.  It could not be true, could not ... Tom, as if in a fog, looked at the flashing scattering of stars.  Her chest shook with sobs.  He was just cold.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Mysterious inscription</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom pushed back the sleeve of his old shirt and looked tiredly at the dark gray cloud.  On the last day of April, the orphans did the cleaning as usual.  Mrs. Cole demanded that the windows be cleaned to a shine, although the shabby windowsills were unlikely to be covered with fresh paint.  The glass squeaked again under the rag, and Tom looked at the orphanage.</p><p> </p><p>The past weeks were like the calm before the storm.  The rabbit story caused a stir.  The next morning, Stubbs struggled in sobs, while Lucy, Cathy, and Miranda looked at Riddle with mystical horror.  Watching Billy desperately clutching the fluffy body to his chest, Tom for a moment regretted that he had killed him.  But he immediately drove these thoughts away.  Stubbs got what he deserved, Tom assured himself.</p><p> </p><p>Then there were explanations in Mrs. Cole's office.  Tom swore he was innocent, but his trembling voice and sweaty hands gave him away.  He had an alibi - a rabbit climbed high on the rafters.  But the headmistress did not believe it, and the caretaker Ernie Spencer gave Tom a couple of dozen rods.  Tom watched in dismay as Stubbs, Brenda, and Henry Oyren whispered as they watched him go.</p><p>Cleaning, meanwhile, was in full swing.  Dexterous Katie climbed onto a stool and wiped the glass with a newspaper.  Lucy disdainfully dipped the rag into the basin.  Catching Riddle's eye, she made a grimace.  Tom raised an eyebrow maliciously and felt a slight prick in his heart.  Why should everyone in the world hate him so much?</p><p> </p><p> "Riddle!   Will you ever start working?" Mrs. Rogers' hoarse voice rang out. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm already finishing".  - Tom looked with disgust at her yellow dress.</p><p> </p><p>" Look, or I'll whip it like six months ago".  - A light flashed in the eyes of the castellan.</p><p> </p><p> “You know, Tommy, I'd love to rip you out with the rods myself,” Kat grinned.  ЭI would flog such a stupid cat with rods for a long time!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked with hatred at Katie's small bare feet.  At the same moment, the legs of the stool disappeared, and it collapsed to the floor with a crash.</p><p> </p><p>"Riddle!  How did you do this?"  - Mrs. Rogers shouted, running up to Lucy.</p><p> </p><p>The skin on Katie's leg was torn, and blood oozed from the wound.</p><p> </p><p>" I was standing on the neighboring windowsill.  How could I do this?"  - Tom, overpowering himself, calmly looked into the eyes of the castellan.</p><p> </p><p> "Briskly blew the window and march into the room," ordered Mrs. Rogers.</p><p> </p><p>With Lucy's help, she dragged the crying Katie to the hospital wing.  Tom ran the rag again, tore off the soaked pieces of window paper and climbed down from the windowsill.  Looking around, he noticed that there was a silver thimble lying around Katie's stool.  Quickly hiding it in his pocket, the boy rushed to his place.</p><p> </p><p>A ray of sunshine, breaking through the veil of clouds, happily jumped across the closet.  Tom opened the cracked door and pulled out a cardboard tea box.  It contained Biggert's sovereign and Brenda's yo-yo.  Now a thimble has joined them.  Tom suddenly thought that if Leslie were alive, he would not need this strange collection.  Sighing, he pocketed the sovereign.  There was a strange feeling in my soul, as if this coin could come in handy today.</p><p> </p><p>At lunch, Tom watched absentmindedly as the children ate their milk soup.  His portion remained, as always, barely begun.  Mrs. Cole talked to Ernie Spencer - apparently discussed the incident with Katie.  Tom looked with disgust at the headmistress, who was eating chicken fillet and fluffy mashed potatoes.  Now he wondered why everyone around him called her "Mrs. Cole," although she seemed to have never been married.  It must sound more solid, he thought sarcastically.  Tom suddenly imagined Mrs. Cole lying at his feet, writhing in pain, but immediately buried himself in the plate.  Better not to risk it, or the legs of Mrs. Cole's chair might disappear by themselves.</p><p> </p><p>Having finished with tea, Tom slowly walked to the exit from the orphanage.  It was possible to go to the center or to the pier, but these routes became boring to him.  A gong announced the approach of a tram.  Quickly crossing the paths, Tom found himself at the old cemetery.  They had not been buried here for a long time, and the overgrown trees gave the churchyard the appearance of a public garden.  The boy began to look with interest at the marble crypts in the form of mourning angels or small chapels.  As a child, he sometimes climbed between them, but after Jane's death, he did not cross the cemetery fence.</p><p> </p><p>"Sir Charles Staylock ... Major of the Coldstream Gards ..." he read.</p><p> </p><p>Tom recognized this place: a large lilac bush grew here.  Perhaps because of him, Tom felt like any lilac smells like a graveyard.  He looked thoughtfully at the plaster bowl, which had collected rainwater.  I wonder where his mom is buried?  Neither Mrs. Cole nor anyone else had any idea how a simple beggar was buried.  An image of a transparent shroud floated before my eyes, with which Martha had covered Leslie.  The boy shuddered at the thought that one day he would also be covered with a veil.</p><p> </p><p>The graves ended, and a busy highway was visible following the silhouettes of the old crypts.  The sky was covered with fancifully outlined clouds, through which from time to time the gold of the evening sun made its way.  Tom narrowed his eyes and was surprised to see a red brick house with small turrets on the roof.  He'd forgotten that the cemetery was at the other end of Vauxhall Road. The door with Shiva's drawing was the same, but there was no plaque bearing Oliver Barnett's name.  A foreboding pricked his heart.</p><p> </p><p> " May I speak to Mr. Barnett? " Tom asked quickly the woman with colorless eyes.</p><p> </p><p> “Mr. Barnett sold the shop six months ago.” She raised her pale, plucked eyebrows in surprise.    " And who are you?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom felt his lips go cold.</p><p> </p><p> " Tom.  Tom Riddle". He looked at the new owner incredulously.  “Mr Barnett must have been talking about me?"</p><p> </p><p> “No,” she looked at Tom's uniform with disgust.  - "Are you from the shelters?"</p><p> </p><p> "Well yes…"</p><p> </p><p>" Come on, move from here ... Livelier, livelier, rogue ..."</p><p> </p><p>" You're lying".  Tom looked at the woman with hatred.  " Speak the truth! " He exclaimed harshly.</p><p> </p><p>He shuddered, did not expect such courage from himself.  You never know what the hostess can do to him for this?  However, the woman nodded.</p><p> </p><p> "Well , let's go.  But for me to see you here for the last time".</p><p> </p><p>Most of the Chinese and Japanese statues have disappeared.  Instead of seashells, the counter was filled with papers, Whatman rolls, drawers, and drawing pens.  In the corner was a plaque with the ornate words</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Mrs. Claire Gornall.  Stationery store ".  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“She has already prepared the winning trophy,” Tom snorted.</p><p> </p><p>"Mr. Barnett asked to sell this to a certain Riddle", - the hostess waved the same black diary.</p><p> </p><p> "You wanted to say ... - to convey?"  Tom asked.</p><p> </p><p>" No, sell.  Two guineas, - said the woman angrily, watching the boy with delight examines the hard cream pages.</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t have two guineas,” Tom smiled sweetly.  </p><p> </p><p>He knew Mrs. Gornall was lying, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of playing with her.  </p><p> </p><p>" But there is a sovereign.  Gold", - Tom  added with a vengeful tone, taking out a coin.</p><p> </p><p>Claire Gornall threw up her hands.</p><p> </p><p> "Where did you get it, little bum?"</p><p> </p><p> " What does it matter? " </p><p> </p><p>Tom's eyes flashed merrily with a turquoise glow.  He felt that the hostess would give anything for a coin. </p><p> </p><p>"Diary for a sovereign.  He waved a coin".</p><p> </p><p>" At least a tuft of wool from a black sheep ... "- the saleswoman sighed.</p><p> </p><p>The rain was ending, but a thick haze hung in the late afternoon air.  The cats scrabbled in their souls because he would no longer see the good-natured fat man Barnett.  And yet the cherished diary lay under the jacket.  A small lantern illuminated the entrance to the shop, and Tom, taking a scrap of newspaper, rushed to the orphanage.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>May 1938 did not please Londoners with the weather.  Gray sky and heavy rain have long become something familiar.  Tom, however, loved thunder and lightning.  Taking the patched umbrella, he wandered through the streets and boulevards.  One evening, he walked into a bookstore on Regent Street and watched for a long time as the fumes of mist envelop the dull light of the lanterns.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's biggest disappointment was the diary.  The first two days, he enthusiastically leafed through the pages of cream with a pinkish tint, like a favorite toy.  He even rewrote the story of the day in elegant curls several times.  But the text seemed too primitive to Tom.  Tearing a couple of precious cream-colored pages open, Tom tossed the diary onto the windowsill.</p><p> </p><p>One day in mid-May, Tom wandered through the narrow corridors of the orphanage.  A hoarse voice from Mrs. Cole's office caught his attention.  It was undoubtedly Mr. David Campbell, the orphanage inspector.  There were disgusting rumors about him that he gambled on the stock exchange and slept with a fifteen-year-old orphan girl.  Tom thought with disgust that tomorrow morning the orphans would be lined up again, and they would have to tell how well they were living.  Refusal to answer in that tone ended with a new acquaintance with Mr. Spencer's rods.</p><p> </p><p>There were two plush chairs, an old sofa, and a coffee table next to Mrs. Cole's office.  Tom often overheard conversations here, although getting caught in Mr. Campbell's presence was a sure spanking.  Tom hesitated.  However, the inspector mentioned the mysterious Hitler several times.  Burning with curiosity, Tom climbed behind the sofa.</p><p> </p><p> “There will be no war”, Mr. Campbell reasoned confidently.  </p><p> </p><p>Tom heard his spoon tapping against the thick glass of a cheap cup. </p><p> </p><p>" If a war begin, it will be chemical.  And who will decide on a chemical war?"</p><p> </p><p> “Who knows,” Rochester said.  </p><p> </p><p>The good-natured doctor, as usual, stopped by the orphanage at five o'clock for a cup of tea. </p><p> </p><p>"Czechoslovakia is in great trouble.  No matter how Benes  would drag us into a war for frogs and drunken Czechs".</p><p> </p><p> "Damned Boshes ..." Mrs. Cole sighed.  "And what are these smokers carrying to fight?  Drink their coffee, but eat their pork with chips".</p><p> </p><p>"Henlein raised the swastika flag.  The Germans are now unlikely to remain neutral", the doctor said.</p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered.  How could he forget that the sign in the form of a black spider was called a swastika?  Full of confusion, Tom jumped out of cover and raced up the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>The orphanage library was a small room with three shelves.  Most of the battered books, with the exception of technical reference books, Tom has long read, or at least skimmed over.  Learning to read at age three, he greedily devoured page after page.  Grabbing a brown encyclopedia volume from the shelf, Tom opened the S.  Strange as it may seem, there was no swastika.</p><p> </p><p> ' Tom!"  Little Amy Benson ran up to him, waving her arms.</p><p> </p><p> “I am all the attention, Benson…” He put as much poison into the words as possible.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom, let's go quickly!  This is important ... In the yard ..."</p><p> </p><p> " What happened?  War?"  - Tom smiled maliciously.</p><p> </p><p>Amy, however, did not understand the joke, and began to tug on the sleeve.  At the same time, the girl sniffed funny, and Tom almost smiled.  He mechanically grabbed the book from his nightstand and rushed down the stairs.  A couple of minutes later they went out into the yard.  There was no rain, but the ground was wet and slippery from the downpours.</p><p> </p><p> “You will see…” Benson muttered, pulling Tom, who was not too obstinate, behind the shed.  Just around the corner, Riddle shuddered: Biggert and Stubbs were sitting on a log.</p><p> </p><p>" I brought him ... brought him!" Amy shouted.</p><p> </p><p>Tom pulled up his sleeve.  He tried to back off, but a dark hand fell on his shoulder.  It was fat man Henry Oyren, next to whom was a lean Patrick Phelps: they had just come out of their hiding place behind the barn.  Tom lunged, but Henry and Patrick twisted his arms.</p><p> </p><p> " What the hell is going on here?"  Tom asked coldly.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, cat,” James said sneeringly.  - "We just decided to talk to you".  </p><p> </p><p>Patrick laughed, and Henry sniffled like a rhino.</p><p> </p><p> " Will you release me or not?"  Tom exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p> “Let’s go, cat,” James replied.  " We'll just teach you a bit of life ... "</p><p> </p><p> Stubbs, without waiting for the end of the tirade, ran up to Tom and hit him in the chest.</p><p> </p><p> “Wait,” Patrick laughed.  " Not so fast!"</p><p> </p><p>Swinging, Billy hit first in the face, then in the stomach.  It seemed to him that he had been hit with an iron bar.  Billy ran back and kicked him in the arm.</p><p> </p><p> “This is for Jimmy, creature,” he spat in Tom's face.</p><p> </p><p> “You’ll pay for this, Billy,” Riddle tried to grin wryly, but his bloodshot lips made the smile too forced.</p><p> </p><p>Tom didn’t finish: another kick burned his knee.  He staggered, but the brutes held his hands firmly.  The maddened Stubbs beat again and again.</p><p> </p><p> “Don't kill the kitty,” Henry chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>The whole company burst out laughing.  Billy kicked Tom hard in the thigh again.  Tom groaned dully: the pain was as if a soldering iron had touched him. After a dozen blows, Tom began to squat: only on the ground, despite the disgusting sticky mud, was there an escape from pain.  In one book, he read that at such a moment you have to imagine yourself immersed in an ice bath ... Tom tried to do so, but Patrick's kick made him double over.  Billy and Henry's boots followed.  Patrick, laughing, took out a metal chain.  The gray sky danced before his eyes, and Tom prayed to God that he would quickly lose consciousness.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Tom spent the next week in the infirmary.  The wounds healed hard, and even on Saturday he went out to breakfast all in bandages.  Stubbs, Katie, and Miranda all cast malicious glances at him, while Biggert couldn't help but exclaim:</p><p> </p><p> " Thomas had a fight with the neighboring cats!"</p><p> </p><p>James' words elicited a burst of laughter.  Lucy Stewart's pale cheeks were covered with red spots.  Tom clenched his fists with hatred, but outwardly did not even show it.  He was already considering plans for revenge and did not want to frighten off the enemies.</p><p>Henry Oyren was the first to pay.  Once, while playing football, Tom, without touching his hand, threw a board with nails under his feet.  Henry was taken to the hospital, and his sports badge was transferred to Tom's box.</p><p> </p><p>Then it was Billy Stubbs' turn.  One day Tom, with a wave of his hand, pushed a stone under his feet.  Billy fell screaming, having a dislocated leg.  Riddle's trophy was a small harmonica.</p><p> </p><p>Tom got even more original  with Biggert. One day, as usual, he was reading at the orphanage fence, and James was smoking nearby.  Tom looked at him, imagining how the cigarette would flash in his hands.  A minute later, James was rolling screaming on the wet ground, and Tom added a small elephant figure to his collection of trophies.</p><p> </p><p>Finally came the  July, 12. the day when the orphans left for nature.  This year they were taken to the eastern coast, famous for its numerous coastal cliffs.  Mrs. Cole sighed, complaining about the cost of the trip.  But Dr. Rochester insisted on his own: after the death of Leslie, some children were found to have tuberculosis.  One of them was Lucy Stewart, who had been coughing lately.</p><p> </p><p>The orphans were settled in a dilapidated house.  Tom had to live in a large room with Biggert, Stubbs, and another boy, Michael Collingwood.  Life with them seemed disgusting to him.  It wasn't just their endless card games; the persistent smell of sweat was much worse.  On the first day, Tom went outside the house in search of solitude.  Inhaling the summer scent of flowers, Tom immediately felt better, as if all the sorrows and troubles were left behind.  Behind him, the voices of boys playing football died down, and in front of him the roar of sea waves grew.  Tom walked to the edge of one of the highest coastal cliffs and looked at the foaming surface.  He was fascinated by the power of this mighty, as it seemed to him, creature, striving at all costs to expand its possessions.</p><p> </p><p>Since then, Tom has spent most of his time in nature.  His favorite place was a dark rock, from which a view of the cliff opened - a black sheer steep, from which several large pieces broke off.  Riddle often read at the top, admiring the waves boiling and foaming below.  Forgetting about everything in the world, the boy lay down in the grass and, catching the smell of summer flowers, watched cold, almost snowy clouds crawling across the blue sky.</p><p> </p><p>On the morning of  July,23  Tom arrived at the black rock early.  There were two days left before returning to the shelter.  In the fall, eleven-year-olds were supposed to go to high school, and Tom, like the others, due to lack of money, only general education was shining.  This meant that he would still have to live in a shelter.  Cursing the injustice of the world, Tom watched as Lucy and Miranda walk fearfully barefoot on the lush grass.</p><p> </p><p>Splashes of sea water reached this site, but did not touch the boy.  Down to the boulders and cliff half-hidden by water, a chain of uneven depressions carved into the stone descended by stairs.  The harsh, gloomy landscape - the sea and the rocks - was not enlivened by a tree or a strip of grass or sand.  Tom considered going down into the cave, but the sight of the sheer cliff cooled his desire.  The dark ledges were slippery from sea water, which meant that it was dangerous to walk on them.  And yet curiosity prevailed.  The boy held out his hand to the boulder and immediately heard a soft hiss.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Hi! crawl here,</em>” he said in snake tongue.  </p><p> </p><p>Instead of a snake, a head with orange spots appeared from behind a stone is an ordinary one.</p><p> </p><p> <em>"You called, Master?"</em>  He hissed respectfully.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Why are you listening to me?"  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom tore off a blade of grass and began to stroke the slippery back of the reptile.  Gradually they both relaxed: Tom sat down on the edge of the boulder, and already wrapped patterned rings around his left hand, with which the boy rested on the stone.</p><p> </p><p> <em>" This is how the Lord of the Serpents established ... Look, this is his cave ... He lived a thousand years ago, but his Heir will soon come".</em></p><p> </p><p><em>"And when will this Heir appear?"</em>  Tom smiled for the first time since Leslie's death.  Everything that happened seemed to him a funny fairy tale.</p><p> </p><p><em>"The stars say that today ... And snakes know the language of the stars"</em>,  hissed too.  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Already crawled under the roots of a stunted bush, somehow clinging to the edge of the cliff.  Tom lay down on his stomach and looked into the abyss.  To his great surprise, behind the bush began barely noticeable steps of gray stone, leading somewhere down.  Judging by the broken and worn stone slabs, the staircase appeared here a long time ago.  Far below Tom saw a small ledge.  The astonished Tom looked down: he certainly did not believe in the fairy tale, and yet his desire to go down into the mysterious cave grew stronger.  Perhaps it is only worth ...</p><p> </p><p> " This is where you hang about, cat!" - Tom cursed: Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson were right behind him.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, it's you,” he smiled contemptuously, although in his heart he wanted to strangle the girl.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes,  are we,” Amy chirped, straightening the folds of her uniform gray dress in the wind.  "Do you want to swim?"  She held out.</p><p> </p><p>Tom was distorted: the punishment for unauthorized bathing was a flogging of fifty rods.  He had no doubt that Benson wanted to set him up for this punishment.</p><p> </p><p> "No ... I want to go down into the cave", - Tom squinted, looking at the waves crashing against the sharp boulders.</p><p> </p><p>" Into the cave?"  Dennis sighed, looking down in horror.<br/><br/></p><p>" You don't understand a lot. This is the Serpent Lord's cave!"  - Tom grinned.  </p><p> </p><p> "Whom?" </p><p> </p><p>Bishop looked at Tom like he was crazy.  Amy, apparently, also thought that their interlocutor was talking about some nonsense.</p><p> </p><p> " Lord of the Serpents".  - Tom again felt a strange euphoria.</p><p> </p><p> “You’ll go there.  You will go! "  He thought, looking at Amy.  </p><p> </p><p>The snow cloud became denser, almost swallowing the island visible in the distance.</p><p> </p><p> " I want to go to the cave!"  Benson exclaimed, stamping her foot.</p><p> </p><p>" Then go ahead", - Tom threw, smiling contentedly.</p><p> </p><p>Bishop could only submit to the wishes of his girlfriend.  The descent from the cliff was difficult.  Salty spray flew into my face.  It was possible to fall down many times, but some kind of force helped them.  There was a granite parapet between the cliff and the boulder.  It was difficult to walk on it, and the children had to take off their shoes, taking the shoes in their hands.  The boys rolled up their trousers down to their knees, and Amy's dress was short enough to walk on the water despite the waves.  Tom smelled salt and heard the rustle of the waves;  the cool breeze ruffled his hair.</p><p> </p><p>"And what kind of tale about the Lord of the Serpents?"  - tried to cheer up Dennis, examining his bare feet in the clear water.</p><p> </p><p> “He lived many centuries ago,” Tom improvised.  " He had a pale face, like a snake face.  His servants wore a sign in the form of a snake ... He also had a huge green snake.  She liked little gentle girls like our Amy for dinner ..."</p><p> </p><p>Benson yelped, and Tom laughed with a cold laugh he was not used to.  The crevice, meanwhile, opened into a tunnel that no doubt filled with water at high tide.  The slippery walls were at most three feet apart.  When he reached this place, Tom felt the steps under his feet and walked along them.  Dennis and Amy tried to keep up.  Deep in the cliff, the tunnel turned sharply to the left.</p><p> </p><p> " So where is your Serpent Lord?"  - Dennis chuckled when, at last, they, chilled, went out into the center of the large cave.</p><p> </p><p>" Now ... now ... ?- Tom's attention was immediately attracted by a small figure of a snake, engraved on one stone.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Open up</em>,” he whispered in a serpentine manner.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, the surface of the wall was adorned with the outline of an arched passage.  The vault that appeared on the gray stones seemed so dazzlingly white, as if a crack had formed in the wall, behind which a bright light shone.</p><p> </p><p> “What… what did you say?"  Bishop shouted.</p><p> </p><p>Amy blinked, white with fright.  Tom was also shocked, but did not want to show it.  Instead, he looked absently at the stone vault, and then turned his gaze to the spot of light.</p><p> </p><p> “I only told the shadow of the Serpent Lord to open it,” he hissed, giving his voice a deliberate ominousness.  - Follow me, cowards, - Tom threw contemptuously and dived into the opening.</p><p> </p><p>The children followed him.  Amy was brave, and Dennis was barely hiding his fear.  Behind the wall, meanwhile, was the shore of a huge black lake.  All around was a cavern with such a high vault that the ceiling was lost sight of.  In the distance, perhaps in the very middle of the lake, there was a misty greenish glimmer reflected in the still water.</p><p> </p><p> “How… how did you do it?” Amy whispered in shock.</p><p> </p><p> "Oh ... I still can't do it, Benson," Tom said importantly.</p><p> </p><p>All his attention was riveted on the greenish glow, which dispersed the velvety darkness.  It seemed to him that the local darkness was somehow denser than usual.  The water surface of the lake seemed motionless, and only green reflections played dimly in the water.</p><p> </p><p> “You're lying,” Dennis muttered. </p><p> </p><p> The door opened itself.</p><p> </p><p> " Do not believe? ? Riddle chuckled.  " Well then, look!"</p><p> </p><p><em>"Open up!"</em> he hissed again, gesturing with his left hand to the glow.</p><p> </p><p>Dennis and Benson's faces twisted with fright.  Tom smiled for a moment, but immediately screamed.  The glow wavered and tore apart.  It seemed as if an unknown hand was drawing an inscription.  Huge green words appeared over the lake:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>THE  lAST ENEMY THAT SHALL BE DESTROYED IS DEATH</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Something hissed, and the letters melted, turning into a green haze again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Professor Dumbledore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>" What happened?  I want to know what happened!"  - Mrs. Cole, as usual, repeated the question twice.</p><p> </p><p> “Nothing…” Tom whispered, flapping his long eyelashes.  "We examined the surroundings ..."</p><p> </p><p> " Enough!  - exploded the headmistress.  </p><p> </p><p>The evening was chilly, and an orange cape was thrown over her long red dress.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm tired, Riddle, of your antics.  Why is there always trouble where you are?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked down at the wood floor with cracked pale yellow paint.  Trembling, Benson cried, covering her eyes with her hand.  Bishop covered himself with a blue blanket from the fever, on which the plump Maggie Pierce, Mrs. Rogers' new assistant, ironed the linen.</p><p> </p><p>" Amy, my little, what happened?"  Mrs. Cole threw up her hands.</p><p> </p><p> “In the cave… There…” Benson sobbed.</p><p> </p><p> "God , why did you get there?  And you, Bishop, are good: I entrusted you to watch over little Amy!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom winced.  Why is everyone around him babysitting this Benson, who, in his opinion, was ordinary rubbish?</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle took us into the cave,” Dennis whispered, huddled in a chair.</p><p> </p><p> " Yeah, I knew it.  This is Riddle's trick” exclaimed Mrs. Cole. "Now explain what happened, bastard!"</p><p> </p><p> " I told you ..Wwe were examining the surroundings by the sea and accidentally got into a cave ... Amy was scared.  Maybe from a steep descent ..."</p><p> </p><p>Tom composed this mixture of half-truths and lies on the way to the barracks.  He was calm about Bishop and Benson: no one would have believed the story of the ghostly inscription over the lake.  However, these two were not themselves.  Tom convinced Dennis to say that the cave was scary.  Amy was hysterical, but could not utter a word.  They skipped lunch, and Martha, seeing the shaking children, immediately took all three to Mrs. Cole.</p><p> </p><p> “I heard your fable,” the headmistress grumbled.</p><p> </p><p> “But it's… true,” Tom snapped.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Cole scanned him with empty gray eyes . She has the "roach look," as Tom called him.</p><p> </p><p>" Martha! " - she exclaimed.  “Take Amy and Bishop to Dr. Kirton.  And you, Riddle, are in for trouble.</p><p> </p><p> " For going to the cave?"  - Tom was surprised and immediately whined: Mrs. Cole grabbed his ear.  The pain was like a nettle burn.</p><p> </p><p> " You tell me ... Martha!  Because of this bastard, we are leaving tomorrow, the day before".  </p><p> </p><p>Tom  continued to whine in pain, feeling his ear burning unbearably.</p><p> </p><p> “You liquid, Riddle, for punishment,” Martha said coldly.</p><p> </p><p> Tom cast a hateful glance at the slammed white door.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>On the bus, Tom  felt a slight chill, catching the angry glances of other children.  Eric Volley was shaking with a temperature, and Tom thanked the sky for the fact that the last days he had hardly been in the bedroom.  Upon arrival, the manager Ernie Spencer gave him fifty rods.  Tom endured the end of the spanking on the verge of insensibility.</p><p> </p><p>On the day of his recovery, Riddle was visited by Mrs. Cole and Dr. Rochester.  The fat doctor entered cheerfully, whistling a melody.  To Tom's surprise, he wore a white coat and a phonendoscope.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, our patient feels rather well,” the doctor remarked, feeling his pulse with his sinewy hand.  "Eats also disgusting?"</p><p> </p><p>As a child, Charles Rochester treated Riddle regularly.  He considered Tom a weak child, often making fun of his poor appetite.</p><p> </p><p> “I hope that at least now the rod is good for him,” muttered the headmistress.</p><p> </p><p> " You came to me?"  - A light flashed in Tom's eyes.</p><p> </p><p> “No,” Rochester smiled.  " Eric Volley has chickenpox".  T</p><p> </p><p>Tom shivered.  Chickenpox, along with diabetes, was his nightmare.</p><p> </p><p> “Don't worry,” the doctor nodded encouragingly.  " Quarantine has already been introduced.  Although there are no such sores that would not stick to Tom Riddle!"</p><p> </p><p>The boy bit his lip and studied the box of aspirin tablets.  The doctor opened his suitcase and took out a metal stick.</p><p> </p><p> “Look at her, Tom.  Watch your movements, ”he ordered.</p><p> </p><p> " What is it? " - The child looked up from the green box and stared in amazement at the moving stick.</p><p> </p><p> "Do you what they say, you bastard!"  Mrs. Cole exploded.</p><p> </p><p>Tom shrugged his shoulders and watched the movement of the stick.  Dr. Rochester watched him intently, taking notes on the crumpled dispensary papers.</p><p> </p><p> "Do you have nightmares?  He asked, pulling out the last squiggle.</p><p> </p><p> "Yes, they are dreaming!"  - Tom wanted to exclaim, but stopped short: to admit it seemed to him ashamed.  Instead of answering, he stared at the metal headboard of the next bed and whispered barely audibly:</p><p> </p><p> “No… sir".</p><p> </p><p>" Well, well ... "- said Dr. Rochester. " There are no obvious signs of schizophrenia.  Is that the sparkle in the eyes.  If you want, I can talk to a psychiatrist I know".</p><p> </p><p>Tom was beginning to understand what trouble Mrs. Cole had warned about.  There was no doubt: they wanted to send him to a mental hospital.  Tom looked at the crooked legs of the metal table and felt that he could not stand.  His head swam and he sat down on the bed.</p><p> </p><p> “You’ll sit in the room without supper until the doctor’s visit,” Mrs. Cole said sternly. " Only breakfast and lunch.  And no walks.  I hope you understand me, Riddle?"</p><p> </p><p>Turning on her heels, she left the infirmary.  Dr. Rochester, casting a careful glance at the boy, followed her.  Tom watched with fear as the hem of the headmistress's light green dress flashed.</p><p> </p><p>" I'm not crazy!  Hear, not crazy!"  - shouted Tom, shaking the pen.</p><p> </p><p>The heavy metal door was locked.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>For the next three days, Tom sat in the room, admiring a corner of the gray sky, a chair and an old wardrobe.  Several times he tried to read an old volume of "Ancient History".  The letters blurred, and he could hardly grasp the meaning of the words.  At times it seemed to him that he was really crazy, since he saw a strange inscription, spoke with snakes and thought about the Lord of the Snakes.  But Tom drove these thoughts away.</p><p> </p><p>On the morning of August 2, Tom woke up at six o'clock.  That night he had a bad dream again.  He stood again in the room with Leslie's coffin and a mirror.  The girl, throwing back her shroud, beckoned him through the looking glass, where a swastika and a terrible man with a snake-like face flashed.  Only now Tom, succumbing to an unknown impulse, almost stepped into the mirror-like surface, but woke up.  Outside the window, it was raining endlessly, and the boy looked at the wet glass, thinking about a terrible dream.</p><p> </p><p>After breakfast Tom returned to his room, took a book and sat down to read.  The old blanket was frayed, and Mrs. Rogers, grumbling, replaced it with a darned blanket.  A light knock distracted him.  Door opened.  Mrs. Cole was standing in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom, you have a guests.  This is Mr. Dumberton ... I beg your pardon, Dunderborne.  He wants to tell you ... well, let him say it himself".</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Cole closed the door.  Tom narrowed his eyes.  The visitor was a tall man with long brown hair and a similar beard.  His clothes seemed exotic: a dark purple velvet suit, a white scarf with a black check.  A purple cloak hung on one hand.</p><p> </p><p> “Hello, Tom,” the man stepped forward and held out his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Tom hesitated.  Who knows what's on his mind?  After a short reflection, he shook hands.  The man pulled a hard wooden chair up to the bed and sat down.</p><p> </p><p> “I'm Professor Dumbledore.</p><p> </p><p>It was bad.  Before him, probably, was the familiar psychiatrist of Dr. Rochester.</p><p> </p><p> "Professor?" - asked Tom.  "You mean a doctor?  Why did you come?  Did she invite you to examine me?"</p><p> </p><p> "No, no," Dumbledore smiled.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course,  all psychiatrists smile at their patients", thought Tom.</p><p> </p><p> "I do not believe you.  She wants you to examine me, right?  Speak the truth!"  He shouted.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's brown eyes glittered with turquoise.  He gazed at Dumbledore intently, expecting to see the hospital office and the white coat, but instead a shield of light appeared in front of him.  It seemed to him that he gently threw him on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>"Who are you?"  Tom looked at him warily.</p><p> </p><p> "I already said.  My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts.  I have come to suggest you study at my school. It is your new school if you want to go there".</p><p> </p><p>If he simply said that he came to examine him ... But this doctor began to fill in about some school.  Jumping quickly out of bed, Tom glared at Dumbledore with fury.</p><p> </p><p> " Do not deceive!  You're from a madhouse, right?  "Professor", yeah, well, of course!  So, I'm not going anywhere.  This old  witch<br/>herself must be sent to a psychiatric hospital!  I didn't do anything to this Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, ask them, they will say the same!"</p><p> </p><p>"A picture swam before my eyes as he and Amy and Dennis walk along the parapet flooded by the sea.  Benson yelped at the snake joke, and he laughed coldly.  Tom shuddered.  Is this "professor" delving into his thoughts?"</p><p> </p><p> "I'm not from an insane asylum," Dumbledore said patiently.  - "I'am a teacher.  If you sit down and calm down, I'll tell you about Hogwarts.  Of course, no one will force you to study there if you don’t want to ..."</p><p> </p><p> " Let them just try!"  - Tom curled his lips.  "What else could he say to this guy?"</p><p> </p><p> “Hogwarts is not an insane asylum, but a school of magic"., Dumbledore continued,</p><p> </p><p>Tom felt knocked down.  Magic?  But there is no magic!  Or does it exist?  His gaze darted from one eye of Dumbledore to the other.</p><p> </p><p> "So this ... this magic is what I can do?"</p><p> </p><p>"What exactly do you know how?"</p><p> </p><p>“Miscellaneous,” Tom breathed.  A blush filled his face, rising from the slender neck to the sunken cheeks.   I can move things without touching them.  I can control animals without any training.  I can hurt those who are cruel to me".</p><p> </p><p>Tom's legs buckled.  He stumbled back to the bed and sat down, staring at his hands as if in prayer.</p><p> </p><p> “I knew I was not like everyone else,” he whispered, addressing his trembling fingers.  " I knew that I was special.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, you're absolutely right,” Dumbledore said.  "You are a wizard".</p><p> </p><p>Riddle looked up.  Wizard?  Is he a wizard?  So that's why he knows how to move objects and heat the kettle.  That is why the snakes and the rabbit obeyed him.  That is why he could read the minds of others ... Or, perhaps, in front of him is a cunning psychiatrist, and he falls into his trap?</p><p> </p><p> "Are you a wizard too?"</p><p> </p><p>  "Yes".</p><p> </p><p> "Prove it!  Tom demanded, in the same imperious tone as he demanded from Martha the truth about Leslie's death, and from Claire Gornall about Mr. Barnett".</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.</p><p> </p><p> " If, as I believe, you agree to enter Hogwarts ..."</p><p> </p><p> " Of course I agree!?  Tom exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p> “… Then you must, when addressing me, call me“ professor ”or“ sir ”.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's heart sank.  So, in this Hogwarts, he will be a simple booger?  For a moment, Tom's face hardened.  He began to think about whether to send this gentleman with his school.  But he had no other opportunity to escape from the shelter.</p><p> </p><p> “Sorry, sir,” Tom tried to say as politely as possible.  " I wanted to say - please, professor, could you show me ...<br/><br/><br/></p><p>Dumbledore nodded and drew his wand from the inside pocket of his coat.  Tom chuckled at his vanity.  At the same instant, the professor pointed his wand at the wardrobe and waved it casually.</p><p> </p><p>The closet caught fire.</p><p> </p><p>Tom screamed.  After all, all his property was there!  He wanted to beg the damned "professor" to put out the fire.  But the flame went out.  The wardrobe stood untouched, without a single mark.  The shocked boy, as if knocked down, stared first at the cabinet, then at his wand.</p><p> </p><p> " When will I get this?" </p><p> </p><p>Tom pointed to his wand with a greedy gleam in his eyes.  He was fascinated by the thought that this nondescript object could be so powerful.</p><p> </p><p> “All in good time,” Dumbledore said.  " I think something is breaking out of your closet.  Open the door".</p><p> </p><p>Tom hesitated, crossed the room and opened the door.  The lips went cold.  The box rattled and shook, as if mad mice were pounding in it.</p><p> </p><p> "Get it," Dumbledore remarked.  " Is there something foreign in her?"</p><p> </p><p>The boy hesitated.  How to proceed?  You could have been lying.  But this type could well deny him the opportunity to study in a new school.  Tell the truth?  And if for this collection he is also left in the orphanage?</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, I guess there is, sir,” he muttered at last.</p><p> </p><p> “Open it,” Dumbledore ordered, pointing to the box.  Tom removed the lid and emptied the contents onto the bed.</p><p> </p><p> “You will return them to their owners and apologize,” Dumbledore said, putting his wand back into his pocket.  “I’ll know if you don’t.”  And keep in mind: Hogwarts doesn't tolerate theft".</p><p> </p><p>Tom bit his lip.  It was important not to show this person even a shadow of embarrassment.</p><p> </p><p> "Yes, sir ..." He looked coldly at Dumbledore.</p><p> </p><p>Jets of water crawled across the window pane.  An overpowering downpour covered the tall gray houses like a sheer wall, raising clouds of wet fog.  The smell of moisture was felt even in the room.  Tom flashed a strange thought that by some miracle the surviving cabinet might damp.</p><p> </p><p> “At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore continued, “they teach not only how to use magic, but also how to control it.  However, for your information, they may be expelled from Hogwarts.  And the Ministry of Magic, yes, there is such a Ministry, - he continued, seeing the embarrassment on Tom's face, - punishes violators even more severely.  Every novice wizard must understand that by entering our world, he undertakes to abide by our laws".</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, sir,” Tom repeated.</p><p> </p><p>It suddenly dawned on him that all this was a well-thought-out performance.  The strange "professor" seems to have decided to teach him a lesson.  But why?</p><p> </p><p> " I have no money", - Tom tried to make his face as calm as possible, although his soul was seething with rage.</p><p> </p><p> "It's an easy fix." Dumbledore took a leather money bag from his pocket.  “Hogwarts has a special fund for students who can't buy textbooks and uniforms themselves.  You may need to buy used spell books and worn robes, but ..."</p><p> </p><p> " Where are spell books sold?"  - Tom interrupted him, taking a bag of money.  “There is nothing to thank the guy who invites you to walk in rags,” a haughty voice whispered in his head.</p><p> </p><p> “In Diagon Alley,” Dumbledore said.</p><p> </p><p> " Will you come with me?"  Riddle looked up from the coin.  If only I didn't go, he thought, crossing his fingers.</p><p> </p><p> " Of course, if you ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Don't,” Tom said.  " I am used to doing everything myself and constantly walk around London alone.  How do you get into this Diagon Alley of yours ... sir?"  Added Tom, meeting the professor's gaze.</p><p> </p><p> "Here, gnaw this bone, if you so want it," Tom thought with hatred.</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore nodded.  He either understood the boy's condition, or Tom's neighborhood was also unpleasant to him.  He handed the envelope and explained how to get from the shelter to the Leaky Cauldron:</p><p> </p><p> “You will be able to see the zucchini, although the Muggles around you - that is, non-wizards - cannot see it.  Ask the bartender Tom - easy to remember, his name is the same as you ...</p><p> </p><p>Tom jerked uneasily, as if he wanted to chase away an annoying fly.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't you like the name Tom? " Dumbledore asked.</p><p> </p><p> “Toms are a dime a dozen,” muttered Riddle.  "Was my father a wizard?  I was told that his name was also Tom Riddle".</p><p> </p><p> “Unfortunately, I don’t know,” Dumbledore said softly.</p><p> </p><p> “My mother could not have been a sorceress, or she would not have died,” Tom said, remembering the plaster bowls and mournful angels.  " So it's him.  After the necessary purchases, when should I show up at Hogwarts?"</p><p> </p><p> “All the details are on the second parchment in the envelope,” Dumbledore replied.  “You must leave King's Cross on September 1st.  There is also a train ticket".</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore stood up and held out his hand.  Tom didn't want to shake it, but that was the rules of the game.  Fallen leaves and black rings of the viper floated before my eyes.</p><p> </p><p> “I can talk to snakes,” Tom remarked with a slight challenge.  - I noticed it when we drove out of town.  They crawl and whisper with me.  Is this a common thing for a wizard?"</p><p> </p><p> “No, unusual,” Dumbledore said, “but it does occur".</p><p> </p><p>He spoke in a casual tone, but regarded Tom with interest.  Then the handshake broke up and Dumbledore went to the door.</p><p> </p><p> “Goodbye, Tom, see you at Hogwarts,” he nodded.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Tom glanced at the closed door.  My soul was restless.  With a shaking hand, he grabbed a thick yellow parchment envelope.  In the center, the envelope was fastened with a red wax seal with the figures of a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake along the edges of a large letter N. On the reverse side, the address was written in emerald ink:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mr. T. M. Riddle<br/>The First Room, Fife Floor, "Wool" Home for Orphans<br/>London, England</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom, worried, tore open the envelope.  Two pieces of parchment with golden letters fell out of it:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>HEADMASTER: ARMANDO DIPPET</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Mr. Riddle,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It is my great pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on September 1st, 1938. You will need to catch the 11:00 Hogwarts Express on Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station on that day. A list of school items has been enclosed.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Yours Truly</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Professor Galatea</em>
  <em> Merrythought </em>
  <br/>
  <em>Deputy Headmaster</em>
</p><p> </p><p>" I entered a magic school ... "- whispered a shocked Tom.  With excitement, the boy jumped up and began to pace around the closet, looking at the worn wallpaper with an ornament in the form of a brick wall.</p><p> </p><p>The only thing that darkened the joy was the unpleasant Dumbledore.  Why did he dislike him so much?  Tom was at a loss.  Maybe Mrs. Cole said something to him?  Or a box of trophies?  But what's the big deal?  Try touching yourself, I suppose, thought Tom.  He looked with dislike at the wet glass and clenched his long thin fingers into a fist.  The rain intensified and the room became dark.</p><p> </p><p>It was more difficult with the box.  How will he really give her to his enemies?  What will he say to them: "Sorry, dear Brenda, here is your yo-yo toy?"  Better to throw the box in the trash.  If Dumbledore finds out about this, it means that it is impossible to live in that school.  Galatea  Merrythought ... Well, at least he is not the deputy director ...</p><p> </p><p>Tom left the room and ran up the creaking stairs, ignoring the nurse and the children.  Ten minutes later he was at the director's office.  The heavy oak door was closed, and he tugged on the handle carefully.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes,” Mrs. Cole continued to write without even looking.</p><p> </p><p> “I have to leave tomorrow morning, ma'am".  </p><p> </p><p>"Try it, don't let it in", thought Tom gloatingly, looking at the old carved candlestick. How many times has he looked at him, listening to the decision about another flogging!</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Cole threw back her head and looked closely at Riddle.</p><p> </p><p>" And why, in fact, you have to leave, Tom??  She spoke slowly, as if enjoying the power.</p><p> </p><p> " I need to buy textbooks for the school.  Professor Dumbledore told me to do it".  Tom, tugging at his sleeve impatiently, was clearly delighted with revenge.</p><p> </p><p>The headmistress closed her eyes, hesitating to answer.  Tom squinted at the cheap Gainsborough print on the wall.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, you can go tomorrow,” Mrs. Cole nodded condescendingly.</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you, ma'am,” Tom said politely.  It was so amazing to be protected by Dumbledore from Mrs. Cole!</p><p> </p><p>He slammed the door and quickly returned to the room.  Jumping onto the bed, he took the envelope again.  Tom closed his eyes, trying to imagine a wizarding school, and imperceptibly fell asleep.</p><p> </p><p><br/> * * *</p><p><br/>Tom woke up in the middle of the night.  The sound of rain was heard in the distance.  Looking around, he realized that he had fallen asleep dressed.  He jumped up, convulsively drank a glass of water and went to the window.  The downpour turned into a real storm, and streams of water, foaming, ran along the pavement.  Leaning his face against the glass, Tom watched with delight as the early morning sky illuminated by flashes of lightning.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Diagon Alley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom woke up next time when it was light outside the window.  The rain had stopped, but the sky remained gray.  Cursing himself for his laziness, Tom put on gray uniform pants and a white shirt.  Grabbing an umbrella, he quickly crossed the orphanage and raced in the opposite direction from Vauxhall Road.  There was an August haze in the air, and Tom enjoyed inhaling the sweet scent of wet thuja.  An hour later, he crossed the bridge and came out onto Charing Cross Road.</p><p> </p><p>To Tom's amazement, The Leaky Cauldron was not a stately building, but a small, dark pub.  Large yellow candles burned in the corners.  People in black caps sat at dark polished tables.  An elderly woman with glasses was knitting something.  The bald hunchback at the counter was chatting with a fat, mustachioed man.  According to Dumbledore's description, he was bald and was the bartender Tom.</p><p> </p><p>" Good morning", - Tom tried to address the owner as politely as possible.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, hello,” the hunchback nodded.  -" In Diagon Alley?" </p><p> </p><p>Disgusting Tom, the people in the hats began to stare at him.  “If you came without your parents, then it’s a Muggle,” the innkeeper remarked reasonably.</p><p> </p><p> "I'm not a Muggle ..." Tom looked with a mixture of dislike and defiance.  </p><p> </p><p>An elderly woman dropped her knitting needle in excitement.  Tom thought her freckled, wrinkled hands were like the skin of a turtle.</p><p> </p><p>"Wow, how angry!"  The bartender snorted, catching Tom's eye.  "Sit down, wait, when one of ours comes up…."</p><p> </p><p>Tom really wanted to be rude to the bartender, but after thinking about Dumbledore, he decided not to.  He remembered that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's dinner and handed the bartender a coin.  The hunchback grinned as he poured a glass of butter beer and held out a loaf of butter.  Sitting down at the table, Tom unrolled the list of school supplies and deepened into reading:</p><p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">UNIFORM</span>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>First-year students will require:</em>
  <br/>
  <em>1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear</em>
  <br/>
  <em>3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon's hide or similar)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>4. One winter cloak (any color acceptable, metal fastenings)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>5. One robe sash (any color acceptable)</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <span class="u">COURSE BOOKS</span>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>All students should have a copy of each of the following:</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk</em>
  <br/>
  <em>A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling</em>
  <br/>
  <em>One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander</em>
  <br/>
  <em>A History of the Dark Arts by Viktor Berger</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <span class="u">OTHER EQUIPMENT</span>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>1 wand</em>
  <br/>
  <em>1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>1 set glass crystal phials</em>
  <br/>
  <em>1 set brass scales</em>
  <br/>
  <em>1 telescope</em>
  <br/>
  <em>2 quills (eagle feather or similar)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>10 rolls of parchment (minimum)</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Students may also bring an owl, cat, toad, or any other small animal. Students are reminded, however, that bats, tarantulas, and flesh-eating slugs are not allowed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>PARENTS SHOULD REMEMBER THAT FIRST-YEAR STUDENTS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Can all this be bought?"  Tom whispered.  </p><p> </p><p>He wanted to read the list again, but his eyes fell on the newspaper.  In the center was a moving photograph in which a mustachioed man in a raincoat shook hands with a man in uniform.</p><p> </p><p> “Hitler shakes hands with Blomberg, pointing to the East”, Tom read the title of the article.  "Grindelwald is ready for war".</p><p> </p><p>" Grindelwald?" -  Tom muttered.  "Who is Grindelwald?"</p><p> </p><p> “What moon did you fall from, boy, that you haven't heard of Grindelwald?”  Snorted the bartender.</p><p> </p><p>Tom wanted to argue, but a hand fell hard on his shoulder.  He turned and screamed: Emma Spaulding was standing in front of him.  Now she was not in a gray suit, but in a dark blue dress and black robe.  But it was impossible to make a mistake: the woman had the same sinewy hands and cold eyes.</p><p> </p><p>" In Diagon Alley?" </p><p> </p><p>Tom frowned: although more than six months had passed since Jonathan's adoption, he didn't like seeing Mrs. Spaulding.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes,” he calmly met her gaze.</p><p> </p><p>"My Jenny goes to Hogwarts too.  I took her to Diagon Alley yesterday".</p><p> </p><p>"I'm happy", Tom chuckled to himself.  He glanced at the counter where the bartender obligingly offered butter beer to a young witch in a flowered jacket.</p><p> </p><p> "Do you want me to take you to Diagon Alley?", the lady asked affably.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's first desire was to send a swaggering lady.  But, on reflection, he decided to accept her offer.  Mrs Spaulding was the only one he knew in the wizarding world, and Tom hoped to get information from her.</p><p> </p><p> "Yes, of course ... "- he threw a friendly look at the woman.  </p><p> </p><p>The lady walked to the back door, casting a strange look at Tom's left hand.</p><p> </p><p> “So long and flimsy… You’ll hardly be able to play Quidditch,” the bartender hissed. </p><p> </p><p>Two young witches giggled behind him.  Biting his lip, he followed the guide. On the other hand, the Leaky Cauldron was surrounded by a brick wall.  Mrs Spaulding took out her wand and jabbed at one of the bricks.  Tom could not contain a cry of amazement as the wall turned into an arched doorway.</p><p> </p><p> “Welcome, Tom, to Diagon Alley,” Mrs. Spaulding said.</p><p> </p><p>Tom's eyes widened.  They had walked out into a long street bathed in sunlight. The lane seemed to have a golden glow around it, and the sight of it made Tom want to run along and look in every shop.</p><p> </p><p>A joyfully humming crowd of young witches and wizards hurried towards them.  There were many shops around, selling piles of books, pens and parchment rolls.  Tom wanted to inspect every corner, look into every store, touch every book.</p><p> </p><p> “I knew right away that you were a wizard, Tom,” Mrs. Spaulding smiled with the edge of her lips.  - Did you get the owl from Galatea Merrythought?"</p><p> </p><p> "No, Professor Dumbledore came to see me", Tom squinted.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, did you meet Albus Dumbledore?",  the woman's thin eyebrows shot up.  - "He is a kind person and a famous teacher".</p><p> </p><p> "Yeah ... Very good teacher ..." - Tom thought sarcastically and looked at the "Pavilion of Owls".  Owls, eagle owls, tawny owls, barn and snowy owls hooted on the crossbeams.  Tom noticed a big-eyed owl clicking its beak disapprovingly at passersby.</p><p> </p><p>" So who is Grindelwald?"  He asked, paying for the bowler hat.</p><p> </p><p> “First of all, Tom, you must remember: not all wizards are good,” the lady said.  " There are also dark magicians.  The most powerful of them is the Austrian Gellert Grindelwald, who built "magic socialism" in Germany.  Grindelwald even replaced the word "Germany" with "Third Reich" and "Germans" with "Indo-Aryan".  His students call themselves the "Supreme Unknowns" and rule the Muggles.  Four years ago, they hosted a Night of the Long Knives * for the rebellious Muggles.  Since then, Grindelwald has declared entire nations harmful to progress and revived the burning of people.</p><p> </p><p>" And how about Hitler ... Mustachioed Fuhrer?",   muttered a shocked Tom.</p><p> </p><p> "The Fuhrer is nothing without his Master," Emma Spaulding grinned.  - "He trembles in front of the "Supreme Unknowns" and follows their orders?.</p><p> </p><p>" They have a swastika like a black spider".  Tom  was talking about some secret, but Mrs. Spaulding nodded in understanding.</p><p> </p><p>" Yes, the sign of the Sun from ancient Indian magic.  The person to whom its rays are directed experiences horror and disgust.  The one who wears the swastika feels under its protection.  Grindelwald uses this sign to intimidate Muggles".</p><p> </p><p>They passed a shop with eel liver and cod eyes.  Opposite was a shop, near which there was a crowd of girls and boys.</p><p> </p><p> " This is Comet-180, the latest model!"  The blond boy suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the model of the broom.  " It is much better than Comet-140!"</p><p> </p><p>" And even "Chistomet-3"!"  - picked up a short, fragile girl.  With excitement, she jumped, and the wind amusingly ruffled her black curls.</p><p> </p><p> " So, on the continent, the whole state belongs to dark wizards? " Tom whispered in horror.</p><p> </p><p> “We're on the brink of a war like no other,” Mrs. Spaulding nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Tom  looked at the children in surprise.  After what he heard, looking at the broom seemed to him the height of folly.  The adults looked cheerful, but Tom noticed that they sometimes cast anxious glances at the hazy sky.  Nearby, the tall building of the magical Gringotts Bank was gleaming white.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Tom, it's time.  Come back in an hour, I'll help you buy a wand".</p><p> </p><p> The woman disappeared behind the polished door, leaving Tom in disarray.</p><p><br/> * * *</p><p><br/>The Magic Clothes store, owned by Madame Malkin, was in the center of Diagon Alley.  Tom worried that he would have to talk to adult wizards and rang the bell twice.  The door was opened by a young girl with loose brown hair in a mauve dress.</p><p> </p><p> "Are you going to Hogwarts, honey?"  She smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Tom nodded.  Madame Malkin took him to a back room, where a pale, dark-haired boy with a long face stood.  Tom caught the eye of his expensive suede jacket.  He paused hesitantly at a small table.</p><p> </p><p>" Dear, you are very thin and tall", - said Madame Malkin, examining Tom.  “You need long robes.  Don't worry, we'll pick it up.  - Riddle held out the list, and the hostess flew into the next room.</p><p> </p><p> " Hi", - the boy smiled.  - "Go to Hogwarts?"</p><p> </p><p>" Well, yes ..." - Tom hesitated.  He was not used to interacting with peers and felt uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p> "Me too ... By the way, I'm Black.  Alphard Black", - he smiled again.</p><p> </p><p> “I'm Tom Riddle".  - It seemed to him that the boy was discouraged.   He seemed to be counting on his last name to have an effect.</p><p> </p><p>The tea curtain parted and a blond girl in a sheer robe and cream-colored shoes stepped out from behind it.  Tom had never seen such clothes.  He examined with interest the girl's thin arms and slightly upturned nose.  In all her appearance, she reminded Tom of an elegant porcelain figurine.</p><p> </p><p> “Alphard…” the newcomer spoke in a capricious voice, drawing out her words in a mannered manner.  - Let's go, rather ... Who are you talking to?  She looked at Tom contemptuously.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom.  Tom Riddle. ”Tom glared at her.  - And you?" - Tom glared at her. </p><p> </p><p> “Lucretia Black,” the girl's dark blue eyes sparkled with cold light. " Are you Muggleborn?",  she grimaced, as if something nasty had been brought to her face.</p><p> </p><p> “My father is a wizard,” snapped Tom.  </p><p> </p><p>It seemed to him that the boy did not mind talking to him, but he liked the arrogant Lucretia less and less.</p><p> </p><p> "Riddle?  I have never heard such a surname", - the boy was surprised.  Lucrezia continued to stare at Tom, moving a haughty gaze from his frayed boots to a pale face, expressing disapproval with all her appearance.</p><p> </p><p> " Do you know all the names of wizards?"  Tom chuckled.  With excitement, he touched the roll of transparent cloth lying on the table, and it rustled pleasantly.</p><p> </p><p>" Well, well", - Lucrezia sighed, -" you can immediately see that a mudblood.  Poor Hogwarts will soon be swarming with Muggle filth.  Alphard, if you once again deal with such scum, I will tell Val ..."</p><p> </p><p>The boy looked down and looked sadly at the expensive suede boots.  Tom glared at Lucrezia, but Lucrezia just grinned.</p><p> </p><p> “Chose the mantle, Mr. Black?  - Madame Malkin entered the room with a heap of black robes.  “I think you wanted an azure cloak, Miss Black?  And mister ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle,” Tom finished for her.  </p><p> </p><p>He noticed Lucrezia's sarcastic gaze and tried to concentrate on his fingers.  After thinking for a minute, the boy put down his hat, a marsh-colored cloak with silver buttons and a black belt embroidered with silver threads.  Tom then tried on one of the robes that Madame Malkin had brought, but realized it was a little baggy.</p><p> </p><p> “That's not a problem, dear,” Madame Malkin assured him good-naturedly.  She touched the edge of her robe with her wand, and it was just right for Tom.  " By the way, how much are you expecting?  The hostess asked, spreading out several pointed hats".</p><p> </p><p> " Look, how much will be here ..." - Tom handed the bag to the saleswoman.</p><p> </p><p>" Oh, dear ... "- Madam Malkin blushed, as if she was saying something unpleasant.  -" Your purchase will just make up the entire contents of the bag".</p><p> </p><p>" Can I drop the price?"  - sighed Tom.</p><p> </p><p>" This is a cheap kit ... "- Madam Malkin smiled sadly.  - "Maybe you just take a raincoat?  Don't worry, Mr. Ennerwaith's thrift store is two houses away".</p><p> </p><p>Tom again felt the rage of humiliation.  He did not have the strength to look at Alphard and Lucretia, although even from the back he felt their malicious glances.  Meanwhile, the shopkeeper ordered two more robes for the assistant.</p><p> </p><p>" What?  Purebred wizard dad can't find galleons for son?"  - Lucrezia laughed tenderly, trying on an azure cloak.  Tom really wanted to hit her with something so that she would stop bullying.</p><p> </p><p> “I guess I'll take him…” Tom gestured uncertainly at the dark green cloak he had chosen.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you going to Slytherin?"  - continued to laugh Lucrezia, considering his purchase.  “For your information, they don’t take Mudbloods there".</p><p> </p><p>" I'm sorry, dear, that everything turned out this way ", - the saleswoman sighed.</p><p> </p><p>Riddle didn’t listen to her explanation.  Paying quickly, he grabbed the package and, letting Lucrezia's giggles pass by, rushed to the exit.</p><p> </p><p> * * *</p><p> </p><p>Buying a magic wand turned out to be more difficult.  Tom had no idea where the special store was.  He just bought second-hand robes, shirts, trousers and a cap from a thrift store.  The very thought that he would have to wear someone's clothes infuriated him.  After swiftly paying for the telescope, scales, quills, and parchment, Tom rushed to the Gringotts Bank.  Happy children carried cages with screaming owls, and Tom walked faster, afraid to run into nasty imaginations again.</p><p> </p><p>" Bought what you need?"  The woman who was waiting for him nodded.  Tom sighed and followed her, clutching the shopping bags.</p><p> </p><p> " I see you lost your mood.  Did you have enough money?"</p><p> </p><p> " No ... "- Tom sighed and suddenly told her what happened in Madame Malkin's store.  Mrs. Spaulding frowned slightly as she heard his story.</p><p> </p><p> “You see, magicians have their own nobles.  All these Blackies, Potters, Pruetts, Lestranges, Avery, Malfoys consider themselves superior to the rest.  Many pureblood families hate Muggleborns, but only the Blacks are so mired in their hatred that they despise half-breeds just as much.  We go there”,</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Spaulding  pointed to a black building with a gilded inscription“ Ollivanders.  Wand makers since 382 BC. " The store was dusty, and the darkness enveloped hundreds of boxes arranged in rows on the shelves along the walls.  The only furniture was a table and a chair, soft light pouring from a door at the back of the room.  The shop owner was absent.  Tom, stooping, sat down on a loose chair and waited.  Fortunately, there was no one else in the room except him.</p><p> </p><p>Tom didn't have to wait long.  A short man with graying hair and silvery eyes appeared from the back room.  He carried a box, which he immediately put on an empty shelf.  Tom stood up to greet the owner.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you Mr. Ollivander?"  He asked with interest.</p><p> </p><p>" Yes, I'm Harry Ollivander".  The light-eyed man looked around as if he had just noticed Tom. " And you, no doubt, Mr. Riddle?"</p><p> </p><p> "How do you know me?"  Tom asked, startled.</p><p> </p><p> "I know all my clients.  Which hand do you hold the wand in?"</p><p> </p><p>" On the left.  I'm left-handed”, Tom said, expecting a trick.</p><p> </p><p>He was not wrong.  Mr. Ollivander looked at him with a mixture of amazement and fear.</p><p> </p><p> "The child is left-handed ...: - he whispered.  Then he went to the box and took his wand.  "Well,  let's try to pick up a wand.  Oak and dragon sinew, eight and a half inches strong.  Take it, ”Mr. Ollivander winced when Tom took the wand with his left hand,“ and wave it well.</p><p> </p><p>Tom obeyed, but to no avail.  The wand showed no signs of life.</p><p> </p><p> "Well,  not scary.  There are hornbeam and unicorn hair, ten and a quarter":.  </p><p> </p><p>The boy waved his wand, but this attempt was again unsuccessful.  Tom went through six more boxes, but none of them worked.  On the seventh stick, Tom's hand ached, all this was beginning to piss him off.</p><p> </p><p> “Of course…” Mr. Ollivander seemed to be talking to himself.  "Can a left-hander have a regular stick?  He walked over to the shelves and removed the box he had just brought.  - Well, try it.  Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches.  Very hard".</p><p> </p><p>Tom  looked at a long white stick that looked like an ivory figurine.  He raised his wand over his head and waved it, slicing through the air.  A stream of silver and green sparks burst from the wand and swirled around the store as if caught in a gust of wind.  Tom exhaled convulsively, staring at his wand in amazement.  It was warm and still gave off tiny sparks.</p><p> </p><p>" Unbelievable ..." - the seller regarded the boy with a mixture of delight and anxiety.  “The tree of immortality and the very clever phoenix feather that Dumbledore brought me.  What is your exact name, Mr. Riddle?"</p><p> </p><p> " Tom.  Tom Marvolo Riddle”, he replied calmly.</p><p> </p><p> “Marvolo…” Ollivander looked at him narrowly, like Mrs. Spaulding once did.  " Interesting.  One thing is clear: we have the right to expect unusual things from you ... Very unusual ..."</p><p> </p><p>" Why is everyone so concerned about my left-handedness?"  Tom asked Mrs. Spaulding, who was waiting for him at the exit.  His gaze became serious at the same time, as if he had learned important news.</p><p> </p><p> “It's hard to explain, Tom”,  the woman said.  "Lefties are very rare in the wizarding world.  Many believe this is a sign of extremely ambitious and powerful wizards.  In addition, - she lowered her voice, - according to legend, a left-handed person will bring innumerable troubles - perhaps even greater than Grindelwald.  But this is nothing more than superstition”, - she hastened to calm the agitated boy.</p><p> </p><p>Tom frowned.  It seemed to him that Mrs. Spaulding did not want to tell the truth.  The blue sky was covered with a light curtain of cirrus clouds.  Tom looked at the magical pet store "Tempting Menagerie" and sadly thought that he had no money left at all.</p><p> </p><p> * * *</p><p>Tom spent the rest of August in the small room  Mrs. Cole forbade him to walk around London, but Tom was not upset.  All his free time he re-read textbooks, memorizing entire pages.  Gradually, he began to independently work out the simplest spells, and in mid-August he calmly turned matches into needles and buttons into beetles.</p><p> </p><p>Tom also tried to find out more about Hogwarts.  In one of the books, he read that the beasts on the seal were the coats of arms of the colleges: the lion for Gryffindor, the badger for Hufflepuff, the eagle for Ravenclaw, and the snake for Slytherin.  Pupils fell into them in accordance with character traits.  The Gryffindors were famous for their courage, the Hufflepuffs for their hard work, the Ravenclaws for their intelligence, and the Slytherins for their discernment and ambition.  Tom himself didn't know why he was attracted to Slytherin.  Either out of love for snakes, or out of innate ambition, but most of all, Tom wanted to study in this particular House.  In his dreams, he saw himself in a swamp robe with the emblem of a silvery snake.</p><p> </p><p>On August 20, Tom walked down to Diagon Alley and returned with a huge stack of books for additional reading.  Most of them described advanced magic, including some very strange curses.  Tom was sure they weren't taught at school.  For example, he learned how to make the alleged victim vomit slugs for half a day, or so that the onion grows out of his ears.  By the end of the month, Tom had become a true expert in spells like this.  Yet as much as he wanted to grow Billy Stubbs' bunny ears and tail, Tom chose not to draw attention to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, Tom was looking forward to 1st September.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sorting Hat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom woke up at six o'clock on September 1st.  Outside the window, there was an endless shower again, and drops drummed hollowly on the glass.  As Tom climbed out of bed and fumbled for his slippers, a flash of lightning lit up the bedroom, accompanied by a booming thunderclap.  It was still very early, but Tom could no longer sleep.  Scolding himself for his impatience, without taking off his pajamas, he quickly washed up and went to the crumbling closet.  The day before, Mrs. Cole had given him an old black suitcase, which Tom had packed that evening.  Quickly putting on his orphanage uniform, he clicked the rusty lock of his suitcase, quietly turned the key in the keyhole, and, trying not to make noise, walked up the creaking stairs.</p><p> </p><p>The tram stop was empty.  The old cemetery seemed ghostly in a muddy rain veil.  On the other side of the street, a dark green car appeared, splashing puddles.  Tom knew that the first tram should appear in a few minutes.  The sky was covered by heavily creeping leaden clouds, and against their background the trees were bizarrely contrasting green.  Apparently, the boy will have to find a certain entrance at the station - about the same as in Diagon Alley ... As soon as Tom jumped on the bandwagon of a tram that had slowed down, a huge zigzag of lightning streaked the sky, and a thunderclap was immediately heard.  Looking out the window at the streams of water, Tom absentmindedly looked at the rare passers-by.  He always liked thunder and lightning, and he could not imagine the best weather for a trip to a magic school.</p><p> </p><p>An hour and a half later, Tom arrived at King Cross station.  Tom made two changes on the way and got a little wet at the tram stops.  A round clock with a black dial indicated fifteen minutes past nine.  Sitting on the windowsill, Tom looked out the window.  The drops beat rhythmically over the puddles, and the passengers, wrapped in raincoats, hurried to the trains.  Looking at the muddy shroud of rain, Tom caught himself thinking how great it would be if they went to the magic school with Leslie.  He pinched himself as quickly as possible - the thought of her was still too painful.</p><p> </p><p>Gradually Tom began to worry.  He took a ticket from the inside pocket of his jacket and examined it.  However, in addition to the blue inscription “Hogwarts Express.  Platform 9 ¾.  A one-way trip. ”There was nothing on the glossy paper.  Dumbledore said that you just need to go through some kind of barrier.  After crossing the waiting room and the long underground tunnel, Tom stepped onto the platform between the ninth and tenth platforms.  The rain was pouring down with such force that even the canopy barely saved from the water.  However, nowhere was there a single pointer to platform 9 ¾.</p><p> </p><p>Tom was already beginning to despair when he suddenly noticed a red-haired boy walking along the platform with a cart.  On a large suitcase there was a cage with a ruffled barn owl.  Next to the boy were his parents — a tall man in a dapper bowler hat and a blond woman with watery eyes.</p><p> </p><p> “Ignotus, let's hurry…” the woman remarked carefully.</p><p> </p><p> "Mom ... But there is still plenty of time ... " - the boy smiled a mischievous smile.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, Ignotus.  But don't forget: Dad has urgent business at the ministry ..."</p><p> </p><p>Tom followed quickly.  Several other boys and girls were walking nearby.  Despite the rain, they happily discussed the upcoming distribution.</p><p> </p><p> “All you need”, the man in the bowler hat said confidently, “is to pass the barrier between the ninth and tenth platforms.  - Come on, live .</p><p> </p><p>The boy nodded and ran towards the barrier, which had a Platform 9 sign on one side and a Platform 10 sign on the other.  After him, his father and mother entered the barrier, as if through an invisible gate.  Tom ran to the brick wall and closed his eyes when it was less than a foot away.  A minute later he cried out in amazement: in front of him was a platform filled with people, near which stood a scarlet locomotive.  In place of the barrier there was an iron-clad arch with the words "Platform 9" written on it.</p><p> </p><p>Most of all, Tom was afraid of the ridicule of the children of wizards, and therefore quickly climbed into the penultimate carriage, occupying an empty compartment.  Having settled down at the window, he began to observe the platform.  Ignotus's mother wiped her wet eyes while his father tried to remain impassive.  Mrs. Spaulding was leading a very similar Jenny by the hand.  The white steam from the steam locomotive funnily covered the girl's legs like skittles.  A tall, dark boy with glasses was frantically waving and shouting from his parents.  Tom closed his eyes in annoyance: he was sick at the sight of the violent manifestations of parental love.</p><p> </p><p>With a whistle of steam from the valves, the Hogwarts Express finally set out.  Tom watched with interest as the brick tower of the station disappeared and the views of the endless factory chimneys began.  The lightning no longer flashed, but the rain continued to pour like a bucket.  The train picked up speed, and the black suitcase swayed regularly under the seat.  He really didn’t want anyone to enter his compartment; he kept glancing warily at the door.</p><p> </p><p>After a while, Tom pulled out his suitcase, took out his school robes, changed, and tucked his wand into his belt.  London was left behind, and outside the window flashed cozy suburbs with neat flower beds of velvet, then fields with still green grass, which were replaced by even squares of arable land, crossed by thin rivulets.  A dirty gray shroud of clouds merged with the rain.  Tom pulled out the "Encyclopedia of Curses and Countercurses" and plunged into his reading.  Professor Vendett Veridian told how to get a person to belch slugs for hours, stick their tongue to the palate or paralyze their legs.  Tom read carefully, sensing that these spells might prove useful at Hogwarts.</p><p> </p><p>A knock on the door distracted him.  Tom turned around.  At the entrance to the compartment stood a stout, freckled woman with a cart.</p><p> </p><p> "Would you like something dear?"  She smiled.</p><p> </p><p> Tom noticed that the cart was full of candy and some other sweets.  Digging in his pocket, he pulled out several knats.</p><p> </p><p>" Give it to everything",  Tom nodded.</p><p> </p><p> "Oh dear ..."  The woman seemed to look surprised.  “There’s only enough for three beans.  Tom felt his cheeks turn red again".</p><p> </p><p>" Nothing ... Give everything "- he smiled.  The woman looked at him with a sad smile and took out three sweets.</p><p> </p><p>" What, some Mudblood has no money for candy?" </p><p> </p><p>A tall blond boy with big gray eyes was walking along the corridor.  Tom glared at him with hateful eyes and mechanically fumbled for his wand.  The blond chuckled contemptuously and walked away.</p><p> </p><p>Riddle glared furiously at his left hand, which mechanically gripped his wand.  The joints of the fingers were white, and the hands were still shaking.  The thought of casting a harder curse on the bastard, but Tom couldn't do it now.  Outside the window a huge lake flashed, and ripples from the rain covered the muddy water in small drops.  Turning the wand in his hands, Tom tucked it in his belt so as not to think about this incident, and again plunged into reading.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>At half past six the train arrived at the Hogsmeade station.  Tom, like everyone else, left his luggage on the train and hurried after the other students.  On the platform it was noisy, every now and then schoolchildren scurried back and forth.  It was raining like a bucket, and Tom quickly opened his umbrella.  At the end of the platform, a huge man with granite-gray skin, a tiny bald head, and long ears was waving a lantern.</p><p> </p><p>"First years, first years, come to me!",  he shouted loudly.</p><p> </p><p>Tom hurried to the call.  Gradually, about forty boys and girls gathered at the end of the platform, soaking in the pouring rain.  Some put on hoods.  Others, like Tom, opened their umbrellas, on which large drops of rain immediately drummed.  Tom looked around and realized that he was the tallest in the crowd.</p><p> </p><p> “Hello, kids…”, a man with a lantern said.  “I am Ogg, the Keeper of the Hogwarts Keys. Follow me, I'll take you to school".</p><p> </p><p>Tom realized that this Ogg was the mountain troll he had read about in the book.   The troll led the children along a narrow path that sloped sharply downward.  Ten minutes later they came to the shore of a large lake, on the dark surface of which a dozen boats swayed.  Tom, like everyone else, could not resist a cry of admiration: on the rock was a huge castle with carved turrets.  A bright light burned in its Gothic windows, which seemed like a magical world of comfort in this kingdom of cold and bad weather.</p><p> </p><p> “Four per boat, no more,” Ogg commanded.</p><p> </p><p>Tom got into the boat with an unknown boy and two girls.  Among them was the angry Jenny Spaulding, who was wrapping herself in a fur cape and, imitating her mother, jerked her chin in an important way.  The boy put on his hood and fell silent, and Jenny immediately went into a conversation with a neighbor, whom she apparently knew.  Looking at Tom, the girls burst out laughing and whispered conspiratorially about something.</p><p> </p><p>"Ready? " Ogg snapped, trying to shout over the din.  "Then let's go!"</p><p> </p><p>The flotilla sailed away from the shore and glided across the lake.  At the same moment, the rain hit with renewed vigor, and drops of water began to lash in the face.  Tom felt great: he had never sailed a boat and now was delighted with the journey.  Sitting on the bow, Tom examined the silhouettes of the forest and castle, barely visible in the evening twilight.  He was very fond of thunderstorms and now looked with pleasure at the sheer shroud of the downpour.  Other children, on the other hand, looked miserable and sick.  Tom was pleased to note that among those who were seasick was Alphard Black.</p><p> </p><p>In half an hour, the boats passed the ivy thickets and moored to the underground pier.  As soon as the children stepped onto solid ground again, a carved door with the Hogwarts crest appeared in front of them.  With a heavy movement, Ogg opened the doors, and the children, wet and chilled, finally entered the hall.   The entry hall was beautiful inside, more attractive than any other room Tom had ever seen. The house flags hung on the walls, and their way was lit by glimmering torches. Torches burned rhythmically along the basalt walls.  Nearby began a large marble staircase, near which stood an elderly woman in a black robe.</p><p> </p><p> “Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is  Galatea Merrythought, I am a Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts", the woman spoke in a low, chesty voice.   </p><p> </p><p>The children looked around as if spellbound, throwing off their hoods or shaking off their umbrellas.  Tom was very worried that drops from his raincoat would stain the clean floor.  The professor waited for the kids to finish fiddling around and then continued:</p><p> </p><p> “"Well, without further ado, let's get you lot Sorted.  There are four Houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  Each has a noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. You will be placed in your House based on your character and talents.  After  Sorting, college will become your second family for the next seven years.  Come on!"</p><p> </p><p>The prospective students walked up a large marble staircase, illuminated by old-style lanterns.  Tom walked first, looking around with Professor.  Jenny Spaulding and a girl with glasses and big gray-blue eyes could hardly keep up with him.  Tom immediately recognized her as that witch in a flowered jacket, to whom the bartender obligingly poured butter beer.  Professor Merrythought turned around and, it seemed to Tom, smiled slightly at him.</p><p> </p><p> "Line up in a line and follow me", - with these words the woman pointed with her wand at the double doors, which immediately swung open.</p><p> </p><p>The Great hall looked great.  The walls were decorated with college flags that flickered in the bright light of torches.  Twisted candles flew in the air in even rows.  There were four long tables, two along each of the longest walls, draped in dyed linen. One table was red, one blue, one green, and one yellow. At the very head of the room was a table with a violet cloth. There were four large stained glass windows (one design for each House) along one of the walls, and the rest of the walls were hung with tapestries. Tom's eyes shot up to the ceiling, which was enchanted to look like the sky outside. The sky stretched out there, dark with a raging storm, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning. Right now it was turbulent and stormy, with the occasional flash of lightning.</p><p> </p><p> “Good evening,” a wizened, sickly-looking wizard in a heavy blue robe rose from the teacher's table.  He was completely bald, except for a few patches of gray hair.  " I am Headmaster Armando Dippet, and I am glad to welcome newcomers.  I hope that Hogwarts will become your real home and now, without further delay, we will begin the distribution ceremony".</p><p> </p><p> “If any of you are worried, let them remember that we also expected distribution at one time”, Professor Dumbledore smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Tom seemed that at these words professor was looking intently at him, but he was already whispering something cheerfully to Headmaster.</p><p> </p><p>Professor Merrythought brought a tattered, pointed hat.  She put it on a stool in the very center of the hall and stood to the side.  There was silence for several minutes.  Then the folds of the hat took on the semblance of eyes and mouth, and she sang:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,<br/>First sewn in days of yore.<br/>I have lived right here for many years,<br/>Ten centuries or more.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>My masters were a clever bunch<br/>With powers of renown.<br/>They built this place with magic and<br/>Their names are quite well known.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Sir Gryffindor, the brave and bold,<br/>Young Hufflepuff, the kind,<br/>Bright Ravenclaw, of books and words,<br/>And Slytherin, the shrewd of mind.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Sir Gryffindor loved those of spunk,<br/>Adventurous and daring.<br/>Hufflepuff preferred the ones<br/>Who were patient, sweet, and caring.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Ravenclaw was fond of those<br/>Whose brains were sharp and clear.<br/>Slytherin sought those of wit<br/>Who held ambition dear.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>When they were getting on in years,<br/>The founders had a fear.<br/>When they all were dead and gone,<br/>Who would choose students here?</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>So put me on, don't be afraid.<br/>I've never yet been wrong.<br/>Hear what I've said upon your head<br/>And go where you belong!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Everyone in the Great hall applauded.  The hat bowed solemnly to the four tables.  Tom sighed with relief: he only had to put on his hat,  He looked with admiration at the green pennant with the emblem of the silvery snake.</p><p> </p><p> "Please be quiet".  Professor Merrythought raised her right hand in warning, urging everyone to be calm.  When the noise and clamor died down, she opened the parchment list.  </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll say the names, and you sit on a stool and put on your hat.  When the hat shouts out House, sit down at your desk.  Ensler Augusta!"</p><p> </p><p> A dark-haired girl in an orange dress ran onto the stage.  Tom recognized her as a broomstick lover in Diagon Alley.</p><p> </p><p>"GRYFFINDOR!"  The hat exclaimed, barely touching her head.  </p><p> </p><p>The red table erupted into applause.  Happy Augusta skipped to him.  Tom winced: the Gryffindors seemed unbearably noisy to him.</p><p> </p><p> "Astley Richard!"</p><p> </p><p>"RAVENCLAW!" </p><p> </p><p> The tall blond boy went to the blue table.</p><p> </p><p> "Black Alphard!"</p><p> </p><p>"SLYTHERIN!" </p><p> </p><p>Tom twisted as a stone-faced boy in expensive robes followed to the joyfully applauding green table.  It was even more unpleasant to see how pleased Lucretia was shaking his hand.</p><p> </p><p> "Burke Araminta!"  - A short blonde girl with dark blue eyes and the same bow looked very well-groomed.  "SLYTHERIN!"  - Araminta gracefully sat down and happily went to the green table.</p><p> </p><p>" Campbell Julia!"</p><p> </p><p> "RAVENCLAW!" </p><p> </p><p> "Diggory Philip!"</p><p> </p><p> "HUFFLEPUFF!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom was beginning to lose patience.  He knew that he was near the end.  It remained to wait for their turn, looking at the distribution procedure.</p><p> </p><p> "Lestrange Randolph!"</p><p> </p><p> "SLYTHERIN!"  </p><p> </p><p>The curly-haired black-haired boy went to the table of the serpentine college under long applause.</p><p> </p><p>" Littleton Miranda!", Tom's acquaintance girl with glasses immediately went to Ravenclaw.</p><p> </p><p>" Mulciber Norton!" </p><p> </p><p> Tom shuddered, recognizing the haughty blonde from the train.  He crossed his fingers, praying that Norton be sent to any House, but not ...</p><p> </p><p>" Slytherin! "  The hat exclaimed.  </p><p> </p><p>Mulciber walked gravely towards the green table. Tom stared at him with hateful eyes.  How will he go to Slytherin if Malsiber and Lucretia are there?  His dream was crumbling before our eyes.  An uninvited lump rose again at my throat.  Will the swamp mantle with the silver snake remain a dream?</p><p> </p><p>" Owen Felix!"</p><p> </p><p>" "RAVENCLAW!"</p><p> </p><p>" Pinetti Lynn!"</p><p> </p><p> " GRYFFINDOR!"</p><p> </p><p> “Pruett Ignotus!"</p><p> </p><p>"GRYFFINDOR!"</p><p> </p><p>The red-haired boy that Tom knew went to the table.  They applauded him more than the others.  Tom tensed as the list approached him.</p><p> </p><p>" Riddle Tom!"</p><p> </p><p>It's time.  Tom hesitantly approached the stool with his head held high.  He felt many curious glances on him and put on his hat with a trembling hand.  The shabby fabric fell over his eyes, and the boy grabbed the edge of the stool.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, well, Mr. Riddle," he heard a thin voice.  "Hard choice.  Remarkable abilities ... Great talent ... Deep mind ... And a great desire to show themselves ... Not Hufflepuff, of course.  And not Gryffindor - you don't fit together.  Ravenclaw ... You strive for knowledge, but for you they are not an end, but a means.  Oh, I see our desires coincide!"</p><p> </p><p> “I'm not sure…” Tom whispered.</p><p> </p><p> “Many great wizards studied in Slytherin,  and Slytherin would be very useful to you.  So where does the doubt come from?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom sighed heavily and looked at Norton and Lucretia.</p><p> </p><p>" Because Mulciber and Black are there?  Sorry, but this is not serious.  Your desire is your destiny, and your destiny will be SLYTHERIN!" </p><p> </p><p>The joyful Tom got up uncertainly, put his hat on a stool and went to the green table.  He was greeted by low but friendly applause.  To the boy's surprise, a gray-green tie appeared on his neck, and a silver snake badge on his robes.  The Slytherin table was on the far left, and Tom could look closely at the stone wall with burning torches.</p><p> </p><p> “Welcome to Slytherin, Tom Riddle,” the tall, dark-haired boy shook his hand.  “I'm Gerald McGovern, Prefect of the College".</p><p> </p><p> Tom carefully sat down at the edge of the green table and began to watch the distribution continue.</p><p> </p><p>" Spaulding Jenny!"</p><p> </p><p>The girl in the expensive robes stomped over to the stool.  “Not Slytherin….  Not Slytherin ... ”she whispered desperately.  After some thought, the hat sent Jenny to Gryffindor, and Tom breathed a sigh of relief.  That means he won't have to deal with her too often.  Finally, the last boy with big glasses, Karl Yandek, made his way to the Hufflepuff table.  Headmaster Dippet rose from his throne and spread his arms wide.</p><p> </p><p> "Let the feast begin!  The Headmaster Dippet proclaimed importantly.  </p><p> </p><p>The audience burst into noise and applause.  Tom looked around the room a little confusedly, not knowing whether to have fun or not. The golden dishes were filled with grilled beef, pork and lamb ribs, sausages, bacon and steak, chips, Yorkshire pudding.  Satisfied pupils served food.  Tom had never seen so much delicious food and, pushing the plate, began to gobble up the food, as if he was afraid that it would be taken away now.  The Slytherins stared at him in surprise, as if they had never seen anything weirder in life.</p><p> </p><p> " Welcome to Slytherin!",  came a loud voice from above.</p><p> </p><p>A ghost flew over the table in an old expensive robe stained with silvery bloodstains.  The ghost waved his arms amusingly, welcoming each new Slytherin.  The girls squealed at times: the ghost looked a little ominous.  Tom looked after him for a long time until he caught Lucrezia Black's gaze.</p><p> </p><p>" How did you get into Slytherin, Mudblood?"  - the girl's gentle voice acquired a note of contempt. -  "I even curled cream at the sight of a Mudblood like you!"</p><p> </p><p> “Actually, the hat decided so, Black,” Tom chuckled coldly. </p><p> </p><p> " This is a hat error ... And you ... You're just an abomination, Mudblood!" </p><p> </p><p> The white thin skin of Lucretia was covered with red spots.  Araminta, sitting next to her, sniffled in disgust.  Behind her, another slender blond girl scowled.  "Her name is Emilia", Tom remembered disgustedly.</p><p> </p><p> "Are you really Muggleborn?"  Asked a dark-haired boy sitting next to him.  “Randolph Lestrange.” He held out his hand to Tom.</p><p> </p><p> “I grew up in a Muggle orphanage,” Tom said softly.  He didn't like the boy, but Tom felt that he needed to start a dialogue with at least one Slytherin.</p><p> </p><p> “To me, you're the most common Muggle bastard,” sighed Mulciber, sitting opposite.</p><p> </p><p>"How about  yourself??  Tom gave him a hateful look.</p><p> </p><p> “No, you’re really stupid, Mudblood,” Norton laughed.</p><p> </p><p>" Are you left-handed?  Incredible ... ” muttered a tall green-eyed girl with short dark hair.  “I'm Druella Rosier,” she nodded.  </p><p> </p><p>Several children, including Lestrange, looked at Tom in amazement.</p><p> </p><p> “Since when, Dru, have you fallen in love with Mudbloods?”  - the girl with the elongated face snorted in disgust.</p><p> </p><p> “Eat calmly, horse muzzle!” Tom said disgustedly.  The Slytherins howled with delight at the nickname.</p><p> </p><p> “Suck up, Mudblood,” Lucrezia snapped scornfully.  Araminta, sitting next to her, could not suppress a laugh.</p><p> </p><p> “Don’t eat alot of cherries, Black,” Riddle retorted cheerfully.</p><p> </p><p>Lestrange laughed, pleased.  Tom put his hand under his chin and looked around.  Flashes of lightning illuminated the black ceiling. Tom looked at the teacher's table and immediately noticed Professor Dumbledore's gaze.  The boy felt uneasy.  Trying to distract himself from unpleasant thoughts, he buried himself in a gilded dish.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Slytherin, First year, let's go down!”</p><p> </p><p> Gerald McGovern led the children down the spiral staircase.  The gala dinner ended, and the students dispersed to the drawing rooms. Edit Tom walked in line, trying to keep up with the others.  An inner voice whispered that he had to remember the way: classmates were not eager to tell him the way.  Most of the Slytherins were silent; only Druella Rosier exchanged remarks with her friend.  Araminta Burke shivered from the draft and wrapped herself in an expensive cape, and Norton Mulciber twitched his nose contemptuously.  Tom gazed with admiration at the underground corridors filled with statues, porticoes and columns.</p><p> </p><p> "By the way, why is our coat of arms a snake?" Tom  asked Lestrange softly as they turned into the  corridor.</p><p> </p><p> “Aren't you…” Randolph raised his bushy eyebrows.  “Oh, yes,” he said.  “You see, the founder of our college, Salazar Slytherin, was the only one of the founders of Hogwarts who knew the language of the serpent".</p><p> </p><p> " Indeed?"  - whispered a shocked Tom.</p><p> </p><p> "Well, yeah ... Any child knows that," Lestrange nodded.</p><p> </p><p> “King cobra!,” Gerald stopped by a smooth wall with rusty stains from smudges.  </p><p> </p><p>To Tom's amazement, the wall parted into the opening. The Slytherin Hall was Rlow, long room, lit by green lamps.  Instead of windows, turquoise stained-glass windows shone with dim light.  In the center was a carved fireplace.  Next to him were many dark green sofas and armchairs, tables in emerald and malachite shades.  The floor was covered with a green carpet with a silvery pattern.  Dim light green light pouring from the lamps built into the ceiling gave the living room the appearance of a ghostly evening swamp.</p><p> </p><p> “Welcome to the House of Salazar Slytherin,” the Perfect  smiled.  "Soon you will get comfortable here and feel at home.  Boys 'bedrooms to the left, girls' bedrooms to the right.  Let's go!,h e pointed out.</p><p> </p><p>Tom walked with the others around the living room.  After a while, the children began to descend the stairs again.  There was another corridor below.  On the very first door was a Slytherin sign.  Boys' bedroom.  First course".  Five beds were visible in the light green half-darkness, each of which was fenced in with a dark green velvet canopy with the emblem of a black snake.  Tom's bed was the first at the entrance.</p><p> </p><p> “And it will smell like Muggle spirit here,” Mulciber sighed mostly.  Anthony Crabbe, who was accompanying him, burst out laughing.</p><p> </p><p> “If you don’t want to, sleep in the living room, you cretin,” Tom hissed.  Crabbe snuffled in annoyance, but didn't say a word.</p><p> </p><p>It was cold.  Riddle quickly changed into gray-green pajamas, climbed onto the bed and studied the carved stone wall.  Despite all the problems, it was much better here than at the orphanage.  For a while he tried to think about Slytherin and snakes, but fatigue took its toll.  His eyes began to droop, and Tom fell into a deep sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. "Mudblood"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Tom went through King's Cross station.  He walked faster and faster, as if an unknown force urged him on.  He ran through the empty waiting room and jumped out onto the platform.  There was not a soul around, and Tom quickly ran the barrier.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He made a mistake.  In front of him was not platform 9, but a small room.  In the center was a mirror in a gold frame.  The mirror was covered with a curtain, and Tom recognized him: it was the mirror he had seen in his dreams next to Leslie's coffin.  Only now was a gilded lettering engraved at the top of the frame. </em>
  <em>
    <a id="top" name="top"></a>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Erised strs ehu oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi", Tom whispered.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The phrase was meaningless, and yet Tom thought it meant something.  At the same moment, the rushing wind threw back the curtain.  Tom screamed: in the mirror he was himself in the Hogwarts robes, but realized that he looked a little older, about fifteen years old, and paler than usual.  Suddenly, all of a sudden, his reflection in the mirror began to transform.  It became taller and thinner, resembling a skeleton, the skin became even more pale.  Tom recoiled in horror as he saw his reflection completely change in his face.  Something flat and exhausted looked at him, with slit nostrils, eyes turned into red coals.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Tom Riddle…” To Tom's horror, a monstrous face spoke to him.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> " Who are you?"  Tom whispered.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m you, Tom,” the face laughed.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>" Not!"  Tom shouted.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>" Don't give up so soon, Tom!"  - The laughing face split into seven ugly faces and faded into a flash of green light. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom opened his eyes and sat up abruptly on the bed.  Hands were cold and my body shook with fear.  The green velvet curtains of his bed were drawn, but judging by the silence in the bedroom, it seemed like no one else had woken up.  For a moment, Tom fancied that a red light flickered in the eyes of the black snake, but it was an illusion.  The boy groped for his slippers and got out of bed.</p><p> </p><p>Other curtains were closed.  Tom walked over to a small table and frantically drank water from a chased goblet with a snake emblem.  The cobra-shaped clock showed four: the deafest hour in the morning.  The only window in the Slytherin bedroom looked out onto the Black Lake.  Judging by the muddy spray, it was an endless downpour.  Tom sat down on the bed, still shaking.  I still had a nightmare in my head, a particularly ugly face in the form of a transformed snake muzzle with flaming eyes.  Just creepy.  Trying not to make noise, Tom left the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>The green living room was empty.  Light green lamps illuminated her with a cold glow.  As soon as Tom sat down in the chair, the candles flashed.  Looking at the dull walls, Tom was surprised to see that they, like the bedroom, had windows, beyond which could be seen the dark water.  The boy took out of his briefcase the "Self-Defense Guide" he had bought in Diagon Alley and plunged into his reading.  This manual allowed you to quickly master powerful dueling spells.  Deep down, Tom felt that a first year was not supposed to know many of these curses.  But the manners at Hogwarts did not seem to be very different from the orphanages, and without the knowledge of such spells he would not survive here.</p><p> </p><p>The clatter of heels distracted him.  Tom looked around.  The mantel clock showed half past six.  He read for almost two hours.  Tom thought about going to breakfast and immediately cursed: Lucretia Black was walking in the drawing room.</p><p> </p><p>" Sleeping in an armchair, Mudblood?",  her gentle, mocking voice rang out.</p><p> </p><p> “Get out,” Tom said, staring at her.</p><p> </p><p> "Why should I get out, Mudblood?"  - the girl smiled mockingly.</p><p> </p><p> " Do you always snort like that, or do you have a contagious chronic rhinitis?"  Riddle put the book down and gave it a scornful look.</p><p> </p><p> “You are very touching, Mudblood, in your attempts to look like a hero.” Lucretia seemed to be amused by his words.  “Learn to talk to normal people, you moron".</p><p> </p><p> "Get out, or I'll make you eat slugs, Black," Tom said, glaring coldly at her.  - "Do you know  how delicious they are?"</p><p> </p><p> "You dare not ... Muggle brat!"  - exclaimed, turning pal Lucretia .</p><p> </p><p> "Really?"  - Tom smiled.  “I'm afraid I dare, Black.  And remember: I'm a half-blood, when are you going to get that through your thick skull?"</p><p> </p><p>Lucretia's dark blue eyes met Tom's turquoise gaze.  Black was about to sneer in response, but fell silent, noticing that Riddle was threateningly twirling his wand.  Then, casting a furious glance at him, the Slytherin walked away.  Tom looked after her scornfully.  It was difficult to say who hated whom more.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Tom found the way to the Great Hall easily.  There were only a few senior students at the Slytherin table, and Lucrezia, sitting next to a similar, but older, girl.  At the teaching table, Principal Dippet was talking to Dumbledore.  The magic ceiling showed heavy rain.  Tom grabbed the toast and snapped a piece off it.  The golden plate was immediately filled with food.</p><p> </p><p> "Hi, lefty!", Druella Rosier rushed in and waved her hand.</p><p> </p><p> "Would your girlfriend mind talking to a Muggle?"  Tom sneered.  He tried to speak derisively, although inside he was still trembling at the memory of a nightmare.</p><p> </p><p> "  Susie? " Druella laughed.  "Well, you've already pretty much revenged her.  Araminta and Emily teased her yesterday with "horse muzzle" so that she cried into the pillow". </p><p> </p><p> Tom smiled, seeing as tall Susan Park with a sunken face silently sat down at the table and pushed a portion of bacon.</p><p> </p><p> “By the way”, Druella continued, “I don’t believe you’re a Muggle.”  Tom looked in surprise at her impeccably ironed green robes.</p><p> </p><p> “You are left-handed, and left-handed people are rare in the wizarding world.  Aha, here are our sleepyheads!"</p><p> </p><p>Lestrange and Black entered the Great Hall, yawning as they walked.  It looks like getting up early was a problem for them.</p><p> </p><p>" Who is it?"  Tom asked, looking at the fat man in the plaid jacket and dark brown Viennese bow tie.  Smiling merrily into his lush, walrus-like mustache, he handed out green leaves to the students.</p><p> </p><p> “This is Potions Professor Horace Slughorn, our dean”, Randolph nodded.  "Well, you are an early bird, Tom!"  - he wondered.</p><p><br/> " Your schedule, Mr. Lestrange ... Taught the whole family, and now I'm glad to see you.  And yours, Miss Rosier.  Yes", - the fat man smiled, - "a copy of my mother ..." - He gently stroked Druella's hair.  - "And mister ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle,” Tom finished calmly.  His eyes grew large with excitement.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you Muggleborn?"  Horace Slughorn looked closely at the boy.  “No, no, don’t think that I am a person with prejudices,” he smiled.  “It's amazing that you are in Slytherin.  He handed Tom the schedule.</p><p> </p><p> “You know,” Druella continued, “the Mugglbloods rarely get into Slytherin.  Ours are so obsessed with the purity of blood that the rest of us simply hate".</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, a lively whisper ran across the table, accompanied by the rustling of emerald green sheets of paper.  As Tom read the schedule, a displeased roar came from the Ravenclaw table.  Several first years jumped up from their seats, and one of them went straight to the desk of Headmaster Dippet.</p><p> </p><p>" Why should we study with these idiots? " - the boy was hotly indignant.</p><p> </p><p>Then the equally annoyed Gryffindors approached.  The Hufflepuffs only looked at each other in dismay.</p><p> </p><p>"Potions would be my favorite lessons!"  The girl from Gryffindor Augusta shrieked.  " You ruined everything!" - The Hufflepuffs looked indignantly at the Slytherin table.</p><p> </p><p> "I see," Randolph grinned mirthlessly, looking at his schedule.  - "They were all alarmed, because we have combined lessons with them.  Potions with Gryffindors, spells with Hufflepuffs".</p><p> </p><p>Tom frowned.</p><p> </p><p>"And why are they so upset about this?"</p><p> </p><p>" It's obvious, Tom", - Druella was surprised at his lack of understanding.  “So many bad things have been done by the Slytherins in recent years that everyone thinks we are the same".  - Tom looked mortally insulted.</p><p> </p><p> “This is all nonsense, of course,” the girl added, “but the small rats like Malfoy are a clear confirmation of these rumors".</p><p> </p><p>As if to confirm Rosier's words, a three amies  Norton Mulciber, Anthony Crabbe and Emilia Greengrass entered the Great Hall.  Looking at the Hufflepuff table, Mulciber  twitched his nose in disdain.</p><p> </p><p> "A burrow of stupid badgers?"  - mockingly he drawled.</p><p> </p><p>"Get out of here, effervescent rattlesnake", - a tall girl from the second or third year shouted with hatred.</p><p> </p><p> “They didn't ask for your opinion, you scabby Mudblood,” Emilia snorted.</p><p> </p><p>" Enough!"  - shouted Headmaster Dippet.  "Five points from  Slytherin, and Miss Greengrass , you will pay off your outburst in detention..  Every year it gets worse and worse ... "- he sighed wearily.</p><p> </p><p>The red and yellow tables hummed.  Tom was embarrassed: he definitely didn't like the company of Mulciber and Greengrass, but he was even less pleased that other colleges treated Slytherins that way.  No, something is not right here.  Tom looked at the flying candles and then at the Gryffindor table.  Jenny Spaulding gave him a look of disdain, and he looked down at his plate, embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p> "Where are you going?"  Randolph wondered.  “You ate almost nothing".</p><p> </p><p> “I'm going to get ready for the lesson,” Tom answered absently.</p><p> </p><p>As he passed the Ravenclaw table, he caught the headman's eye and smiled amiably.  The head girl looked at him as if he were striped or speckled.</p><p> </p><p> “Good morning,” Tom said to her, hoping to hear at least some answer.  The girl frowned and stuck out her tongue.  Tom's worst suspicions were confirmed.  He sighed heavily and hurried back to the Slytherin dungeons. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The first lesson in herbology took place in greenhouses.  Tom walked ahead of the other children again and, despite the umbrella, was pretty wet.  Ravenclaws, mostly girls, looked at the Slytherins with dislike.  Tall and awkward Professor Herbert Beery gave the impression of an absent-minded scholar.  Tom sat down with Randolph and Druella and wrote a whole sheet of parchment.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of the lesson, Professor Beery distributed dried leaves to the children and asked them to grind them into powder.  As soon as the students began the assignment, a leaf flashed at Ravenclaw Margaret Fillmore.  The girl jumped up from the table in horror and ran back to the laughter of Mulciber and Crabbe.  Tom glanced back at the Slytherins and was not surprised to see Norton grinning vile, and his wand still emitting a thin plume of smoke.  Anthony Crabbe giggled disgustingly.  Professor Beery quickly extinguished the flames and took ten points from Slytherin.</p><p> </p><p>The history of magic turned out to be the complete opposite.  The ghostly Professor Beans spoke in a monotonous voice about the birth of magic.  Tom diligently took notes of the lecture, writing down a whole sheet of parchment and significantly emptying the bottle of ink.  Most of the Slytherins, however, soon dozed off.  Only Norton Mulciber insisted that none of this was true.  His only listener, Anthony Crabbe, sighed every time, expressing surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were held in a nearby tower.  Tom tried not to lose sight of his classmates, but still turned into the wrong corridor.  Out of breath, he ran into the classroom in the last minutes of recess.  Professor Merrythought, entering the classroom, waved her wand, from which the ghostly figure of a swallow floated out.  The students could not help crying in admiration as the bird flew around the classroom and melted into thin air.</p><p> </p><p> “In my class, - Galatea Merrythought announced, -  there will be no strict rules, as there are none in the real world.  If you encounter a dark wizard, he will not adhere to dueling etiquette".</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked out the window: the downpour was still covering the horizon.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, let's talk about the difficulties of fighting the dark arts,” Merrythought came down from the podium and walked down the rows.  Why do you think it is difficult to fight the dark arts?  Yes, Miss Park, ”she nodded".</p><p> </p><p> "Uh ... dark magic is unpredictable ...", Susan stammered.</p><p> </p><p> “Not bad, Miss Park,” said Galatea Merrythought, “although not quite right.  The dark wizard is unpredictable, and dark magic is the same set of standard formulas as light magic.  Mr. Riddle?"</p><p> </p><p>" Professor ... - Tom's soft voice trembled with excitement.  - In the textbook, I did not find a definition of dark magic"</p><p>.</p><p>The girls looked at Tom in amazement.  Mulciber began to whisper something to Crabbe and Emilia.  Tom glared at them with hateful eyes.<br/><br/></p><p> " And how do you explain this, Mr. Riddle?"  Professor Merrythought asked.</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t know, ma'am….  Maybe ... "- Tom suddenly decided to bring his guess to the end ... -"Does the Ministry sometimes change the definition of "dark arts"?"</p><p> </p><p> “Well…” Galatea Merrythought raised her gray eyebrows in surprise.  “Then I award fifteen points to Slytherin for the most unusual answer that I’ve ever heard.  I think it's time to open the tutorials".</p><p> </p><p>For the rest of the lesson, the children outlined the paragraph on the classification of dark forces.  Tom had already read it several times and probably could now recite it by heart.  Druella Rosier drew incomprehensible squares, apparently trying to figure out what's what.  Araminta Burke's dark blue eyes froze with fear: information about the dark forces, especially blood-sucking creatures, terrified her.  But Anthony Crabbe looked at the textbook with a blank look.</p><p> </p><p> “After lessons,” the professor continued, watching the students collect their things, “each of you will read the paragraph about the classification of dark creatures.  And you, Mr. Riddle, follow me".</p><p> </p><p>Professor Merrythought office was a spacious room filled with bookshelves.  A black walnut table stood by a large window.  The view of the Black Lake was probably beautiful, but it was covered by a shroud of rain.  The owner of the study pointed her wand first at the dark teapot and then at the small sideboard.  A minute later, a white cup and saucer stood on the table, and the teapot poured tea by itself.</p><p> </p><p> “You have remarkable abilities, my boy".  Tom blushed.  " Just do not spread your guesses about the policy of the ministry".</p><p> </p><p> " Can I ask you, ma'am?"  It seemed to him that the Hogwarts hat lying on one of the racks winked at him.</p><p> </p><p> “Of course, Tom", - she caught herself, - "un to class".</p><p> </p><p>It was about five, but outside the window it became dark due to the veil of clouds.  Professor Merrythought, with a wave of her wand, lit the flying candles and looked anxiously at the boy's left hand.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p>Tom awaited Wednesday with a mixture of dread and impatience.  On Wednesdays, there was a Transfiguration on the schedule, led by Professor Dumbledore.  Tom had the feeling that Dumbledore was quietly watching him.  Every evening he practiced spells for a long time, afraid to get screwed up in front of this teacher.</p><p> </p><p>To Tom's surprise, Professor Dumbledore entered the classroom with the cage.  A decrepit-looking bird was sitting on the perch.  Nodding to his students, the professor opened the cage.  The bird sat on the table, let out a cry and turned into a ball of fire.  Surprised children jumped up from their seats.  A tiny, wrinkled bird stuck its head out of the ashes.</p><p> </p><p> “Welcome to Transfiguration,” the professor smiled.  - "Who can explain what it was?"</p><p> </p><p> “It's a phoenix, sir,” Druella said calmly.</p><p> </p><p> “Excellent, Miss Rosier.  Five points to Slytherin", Dumbledore nodded.</p><p> </p><p>Tom caught Dumbledore's sly eye and frowned.  It seemed to him that the professor put on a performance to show him how little he knows.  And yet Tom, spellbound, followed every word of the teacher.  With excitement, he fiddled with the tip of a goose feather.</p><p> </p><p> “Nature itself works such wonders of transfiguration,” Dumbledore smiled.  - "Your task is to learn how to work miracles with a magic wand.  - And now ...  open the textbooks" -  the professor paused.</p><p> </p><p>There was a quick rustle of pages.  Mulciber whispered to Crabbe.  Dumbledore smiled, and the textbook tapped Norton lightly on the arm.  For several minutes, the children studied the paragraph on how to transform.  Then the teacher looked at his watch.</p><p> </p><p>" Closed the books!"  Dumbledore said cheerfully.  The stunned students clapped their bindings.  - "At my signal, we are trying to turn matches into needles!"  The professor waved his wand and matches appeared on each table.</p><p> </p><p> " Abeo subscalpo!"  Tom whispered.  At home, he had already read material about turning turtles into teapots, and the professor's assignment seemed to him sheer nonsense.  He had worked that spell a few weeks ago.  A moment later, a long needle lay next to him.</p><p> </p><p>" Mr. Riddle!:  Dumbledore's slightly mocking voice rang out.  “Have I already given the signal to use the spell?"</p><p> </p><p> " No, sir ..."- muttered an embarrassed Tom.  -" I am only…"</p><p> </p><p> " Did you use it yourself?  I'm taking three points off Slytherin for self-righteousness.  But since you did everything right… ”A rumble of surprise echoed through the class.  “I give Slytherin five points".</p><p> </p><p>Tom blushed.  He was relieved to realize that most children do not know how to turn matches into needles.  At Dumbledore's signal, the students began to cast spells, but they failed.</p><p> </p><p> " Not scary", - said the professor, - "continue to train.  And you, Tom, try the next transformation"</p><p>.</p><p>"A wrapper in a bow tie?" </p><p> </p><p>Tom was surprised again at the lightness of the building.  He waved his wand, and Araminta's candy wrapper turned into a multi-colored hives.  Druella and Randolph applauded.  Araminta looked at Tom with a mixture of horror and delight. Dumbledore shook his head again,</p><p> </p><p>"They didn't get my signal, Mr. Riddle.  You are very impatient.  Five points for success and ..." - the professor paused ... - "Minus a point for complacency.  Have you read the paragraph beforehand?"</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, sir…” Tom frowned.  For some reason, Dumbledore's words touched him deeply.</p><p> </p><p> " And you understand him? " - the professor squinted.</p><p> </p><p>" I tried, sir ... "- Tom again, as in the orphanage, picked up every word.</p><p> </p><p> "That is fine ... Maybe you can tell us what is more important for transfiguration: the desire to change the object or focus on the result?"</p><p> </p><p> “Presentation of the result,” Tom shrugged.</p><p> </p><p> “Well... Then I'll ask Mr. Riddle to turn the needle into a porcupine needle". Dumbledore smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Tom closed his eyes and feverishly remembered the image of the porcupine in the geography book.  With a wave of his wand, he whispered "Abeo subscalpo" again.  And immediately he sighed with relief: in front of him lay a long fragile needle.</p><p> </p><p> “Great,” Dumbledore smiled, “Just now, Mr. Riddle has demonstrated the importance of focusing on the end result.  I award fifteen points to Slytherin.</p><p> </p><p>It seemed to him that the outline of the room was blurring.  He had never felt such a delight before.  However, his joy was clouded by the professor's gaze.  Tom frowned; he couldn't quite understand why Dumbledore's look was so disagreeable to him.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The Slytherins' spell classes on Thursdays were taught by Professor Saeed Rajan.  This tall, dark-skinned Indian with a small, thick beard was very strict with his students.  Tom had nothing against his method.  But the Hufflepuffs with whom they took the lesson looked at the Slytherins with apprehension.  In the first lesson, students practiced a spark-cutting spell.  Tom taught it at the shelter and demonstrated a column of green and silver sparks from a wand.</p><p> </p><p> “Excellent,” Professor Rajan smiled.  - "Look all: Mr. Riddle mastered this spell the first time!"</p><p> </p><p>" You're a real Mudblood! " Mulciber grunted.  Crabbe and Greengrass burst out laughing.</p><p> </p><p> “A  Slytherin's Mudblood is new,” whispered tall, fair-haired boy Philip Digorry.</p><p> </p><p>Tom glared at his desk with hatred.  At the same instant, the inkwell jumped and sprayed over Philip's new robes.  The Slytherins are fertile.  Professor Rajan cleaned the child's clothes with a wave of his wand.</p><p> </p><p> “Minus ten points for hooliganism, Mr. Mulciber,” he exclaimed.  -" The punishment will be determined by Professor Slughorn".  - Tom glared at Norton, who gave him a hateful look.</p><p> </p><p>The potions room was not far from the Slytherin living room.  Professor Slughorn was the same smiling fat man.  A brown velvet robe and a four-cornered hat added to his comical look.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, I’ll introduce myself,” he laughed.  “I, Professor Horace Slughorn, will teach you the art of potions.  There is no work here for wands.  However, I hope, ”he sighed,“ that our lessons will not be boring.  I will reward those who will not just cram a textbook, but try to create a new one.  Although, of course", - Slughorn winked, - "within reasonable limits".</p><p> </p><p> “Professor,” Ignotus Pruett raised his hand, “what can you do with potions?  </p><p> </p><p>The Slytherins hissed in unison upon hearing his question.</p><p> </p><p> “As much as with spells and wand waves, Mr. Pruett,” the Potions master smiled.  “Look at this.” He pointed to a small black cauldron, in which a liquid that resembled molten gold splashed.  “This potion is called Felix Felicis.  By accepting it, you will ensure yourself good luck for a few hours in any business you plan".</p><p> </p><p>" Are we going to study it?"  Asked Emilia Greengrass, a fragile blonde girl with light green eyes.  Half French, she occasionally spoke English words with a funny pronouncing.</p><p> </p><p> “No, Miss Greengrass,” Slughorn smiled.  “This potion is too complicated.  Today we will study the simplest potion for curing boils".</p><p> </p><p>The Dean of Slytherin explained the recipe and wrote down the ingredients on the board.  After that, the children proceeded to push apart snake teeth in mortars and cook horned slugs.  To speed up the work, the professor started up the gramophone, placing one of the cheerful Strauss fields.  Towards the end of the lesson, Slughorn, walking around the class, praised Tom along with Lestrange and Greengrass.  Along with other students, he quacked with displeasure and moved on.</p><p> </p><p>The Gryffindors were doing worse: by the end of the lesson, only Augusta Ensler was able to properly prepare the potion.  But Lynn Pinetti's cauldron burst into flames, sprinkling her with disgusting slurry.  Professor Slughorn cleaned her clothes and explained that there was no need to add bump spikes to the potion.  Looking at the laughing Emilia, Tom suspected that this was not the Gryffindor's mistake.  Therefore, he was not surprised to see Randolph collapse on the way out to the laughter of Ignotus and Jenny.  Tom thought sadly that although his classmates started first, the Gryffindors were still to be in trouble.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Before anyone knew it, it was October. The trees near Black Lake were touched by yellowness.  Tom became the best in all subjects and received only the highest marks in class. He was naturally ambitious, and this was probably increased by his acquired urge to prove himself. Professors Biri, Rajan, Merrythought set him up as an example to others.  Even Dumbledore, who didn't have Tom as his favorites, gave him excellent grades.  The Transfiguration teacher always looked at Riddle in a strange way, and although he praised him for his successes, without him he felt freer.  Professor Slughorn also praised the boy, although Tom felt he was wary of his Muggle background.</p><p> </p><p>In his spare time, Tom read in the library or studied the dungeons.  Before going to bed, he exchanged venomous remarks with Mulсiber, catching Crabbe's hostile eyes and Black's indifferent eyes.  His circle of friends continued to be limited to Randolph and Druella.  On fine days, they went to the lake a couple of times in the hope of seeing a giant squid.  Yet Tom could not get close to them.  Lestrange loved Quidditch;  Rosier loved to gossip with her friends;  Tom was not interested in all this, and he plunged headlong into his studies.</p><p> </p><p>On the evening of October 1, Tom sat in the library.  Outside the window, a heavy downpour was again falling, and the reading room was lit by dozens of flying candles.  Tom had finished his lessons long ago and was reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet.  The two-inch editorial letters almost screamed:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Capitulation in Munich: Grindelwald's triumph</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yesterday, September 30, Muggle Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain signed an agreement in Munich on the Czechoslovak question.  The document was also signed by German Reich Chancellor Adolf Hitler, Italian Duce Benito Mussolini and French Prime Minister Edouard Daladier.  The agreement provides for the separation of the Sudetenland from Czechoslovakia and its transfer to Germany.</strong>
</p><p>
  <b>The agreement is perplexing: Sir Chamberlain went to Munich with other intentions.  A month ago, he claimed that he was able to induce Hitler to a reasonable compromise.  Instead, on his return to London, he babbled like a moron: “I spoke to Herr Hitler.  I brought us the world. "  Was he, like the Prime Minister of France, under the influence of the Imperio spell?  Prominent Muggle politician Sir Winston Churchill said on this occasion: “Britain had a choice between war and dishonor.  She chose dishonored will receive a war. </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at the moving drawing, where four men in respectable suits were signing a document.  He shuddered.  Munich, Sudetenland, Prague - all this was located somewhere far away from the distant lands.  However, Tom felt a chill of fear rise in his soul.</p><p><br/>" Tom?"  - The boy shuddered at hearing his name.  Before him stood Albus Dumbledore, staring at the newspaper.</p><p> </p><p>"Professor Dumbledore?"  He muttered in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>" Are you excited about something, Tom?"  The professor's blue eyes scanned the boy carefully from behind the glass ovals of his glasses.</p><p> </p><p> “Grindelwald has become strong, hasn't it?"  - Tom asked unexpectedly harshly, pointing with a thin finger at the moving picture.</p><p> </p><p> "Gellert Grindelwald is one of the greatest wizard of the world," Dumbledore nodded.  “I don’t want you, Tom, to believe nonsense, that he’s easy to defeat".</p><p> </p><p>Something flickered in the professor's cold eyes.  Tom couldn’t say for sure if it was pity, pain, or sadness.</p><p> </p><p>" Sir ... "- Tom tried to overcome the tremor in his voice.  - "And what is the secret of Grindelwald's power?"</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and shot a piercing look at his left hand.</p><p> </p><p> “You’re too young, Tom, to think about such things,” he said, and straightening the folds of his gray robes, he quickly walked to the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Halloween</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At half-past three Tom walked with the rest of the Slytherins to the first flight lesson.  The October day turned out to be cloudy and unusually cold.  Although it was only mid-fall, the air was covered with a thick gray haze like winter.  Tom looked down at the flat lawn opposite the Forbidden Forest and felt deeply unhappy.  He was not even amused by the screeching of Araminta, who stepped on a slug crawling on the wet grass.</p><p> </p><p>From early childhood, Tom hated sports.  Fragile and long, he was always the worst in the gym.  His stooped back and thin biceps, which a child could grasp with his fingers, caused eternal ridicule.  Tom hoped that at least there would be no sport in the wizarding world.  But on Sunday he got an announcement for the first flying lesson to be with the Gryffindors.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m so longing to be on the Quidditch team,” Randolph muttered.</p><p> </p><p> “First years can't play,” Alphard Black pointed out.</p><p> </p><p> " Maybe we will become an exception?"  Lestrange sighed hopefully.</p><p> </p><p>Norton and Anthony giggled.  Tom winced as Emilia Greengrass talked about her flying skills and taming hippogriffs with spurs.  Tom was sure that Greengrass was lying: she lied almost always.</p><p> </p><p>" Our Tommy is afraid to fly ..." - Emilia said importantly, intercepting his gaze.  Her green eyes with a bluish tint sparkled with a cheerful twinkle.</p><p> </p><p>The Slytherins, apart from the very limp Araminta, burst into laughter.  Tom looked at Emilia with fury.  Despite the cold, the girl did not wear a raincoat.  Tom had no doubt that she wanted to demonstrate the beauty of her slim figure, and along with the new suede boots.  To Tom's fury, even Lestrange stared at her like an idiot.</p><p> </p><p> “Look, the vultures are already pinned,” Randolph exclaimed in disgust.</p><p> </p><p>Ten Gryffindors stood next to the old Comet 100.  At one glance at them Mulciber winced in annoyance: he was apparently used to flying on much better brooms.  Tom also looked at the Gryffindors with dislike, preparing for the worst.  Fitted Augusta Ensler whispered something to Lynn Pinetti.  They looked at Riddle and laughed.  Ignotus Pruett, who was apparently the leader of the Gryffindors, turned to his own.</p><p> </p><p> “It looks like we can get a couple of snakes off the brooms,” he chuckled.</p><p> </p><p> "Since when did shabby cats learn to fly?"  Mulciber grunted.  All the Slytherins, including Tom, hummed approvingly.</p><p> </p><p> “Be quiet, Mr. Pruett.  Calm down, Mr. Mulciber ”A tall, dark-haired woman ran easily into the clearing.  Her clear intonation matched well with light blue eyes and slightly noticeable wrinkles around the eyes. “I am Jokunda Sykes, will teach the flight lessons.  What are you waiting for - stand to the brooms.</p><p> </p><p>Tom threw off his cloak and looked warily at the broom.  Having experienced three fractures as a child, he thought with horror about how painful it was to fall from such a height.  From Randolph endless conversations about Quidditch, Tom knew that Jokunda Sykes three years ago was the first in the world to fly the Atlantic on a broomstick.  However, Tom was not interested in sports and when he looked at Miss Sykes he felt nothing.</p><p> </p><p> “There is, of course, someone here who will need flying lessons.” Ignotus Pruett looked at him derisively.  “The ability to fly is a hereditary gift, and Mudbloods, I'm afraid, have no chance in the air".</p><p> </p><p> “I’d shut up if I were you, Pruett, if you don’t want to eat a couple of slugs".  Tom looked at Ignotus with hatred.  The Gryffindors laughed, but Professor Sykes shouted at them when she saw Tom draw his wand.</p><p> </p><p>" Calm down, Mr. Riddle",  the woman went to the center of the lawn.  Tom reluctantly removed his wand.  -" I warn you: no duels in the air, otherwise go immediately to the director." </p><p> </p><p>Tom struggled to keep from casting a harder spell on Pruett, and tried to concentrate on his broomstick.</p><p> </p><p>" After my whistle, extend your right hand over the broom and say "Up!"  The professor nodded.  - "One, two., three…"</p><p>Tom jerked his left hand and was surprised to find that nothing had happened.  Most of the Gryffindors and Slytherins held brooms.  Only he, the Araminta and another Slytherin, Martha Vince, had the brooms still.</p><p> </p><p> “Excellent,” said Professor Sykes. " Those who have failed to lift their brooms try again.  The rest take off at my command ..."</p><p> </p><p>Ignotus was the first to come off.  A little bolder, he pointed the broomstick up and soared into the sky, stopping only when he was about forty feet above the ground.  However, Randolph could not concede the primacy to the Gryffindor.  Barely touching the lawn with his feet, he took off to meet Pruett.  Mulciber, Crabbe, the rest of the Gryffindors began to climb behind them ... Only Emilia Greengrass, to Tom's delight, sat on the broom backwards.</p><p> </p><p> "What's the matter, Mudblood?"  - Tom raised his head and noticed Mulciber who was flying by.</p><p> </p><p>Э Maybe the snakes just need to hiss in the swamp?Э  Ignotus laughed.  Grasping the broom with his left hand and stretching out his right one, he rushed to the lake shrouded in gray clouds of fog and flew over it, almost touching the water surface with his toes.</p><p> </p><p> "Come on ... Come on ... Come on ... Up or whatever ..." - Tom whispered in rage.  </p><p> </p><p>But the broom, as if spellbound, continued to lie on the ground. Tom again, as in the orphanage, felt the rage of humiliation.  This feeling stifled him whenever other kids called him names or kicked him while playing football.  Tom frantically pulled out his wand, preparing to respond to any insult.  But Randolph, Ignotus and Augusta, forgetting about him, raced as if they were chasing a snitch.  The low skies obscured the tops of the Hogwarts towers, and Tom watched longingly as the endless clouds of fog mingled with a veil of dirty gray clouds.</p><p> </p><p> “You're too long to fly, snake,” Augustus pointed out, landing on the lawn.</p><p> </p><p>To Tom's fury, the Gryffindor girls Lynn Pinetti and Mona McCabe laughed.  Ignotus Pruett made a loop over the lake a couple of times and then landed on the lawn to the girls' enthusiastic cries.  Throwing aside the broom, he ran merrily to the cheerfully cheering classmates.</p><p> </p><p> “Excellent, Mr. Pruette ...” smiled Miss Sykes.  -" I will inform the team captain about you.  First years can't play Quidditch, but next year you can safely claim the position of striker or catcher"</p><p>.</p><p>Sighing sadly, Tom looked up at the tower with a tall window.  It was Professor Merrythought office with a beautiful view of the lake.  It seemed to him that the figures of Galatea Merrythought and Albus Dumbledore flashed through the window.  What if Dumbledore saw his shame?  The mere thought of this was more terrible to him than any ridicule.  Tom glanced at the lying broom and kicked the old shaft with hatred.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Tom walked slowly through the Hall of Fame.  Cups and shields with coats of arms, tablets and figurines shone in the sun with silver and gold sparks.  Squinting, Tom studied the goblet named after one Marcus Wilmore, who had won the 1882 Best Quidditch award.  Tom thought that checking these cups was a good start to his family search.</p><p> </p><p>The past week has been disgusting.  As soon as Tom entered the living room, Mulciber and Crabbe stretched out their left arms and began to simulate lifting a broom.  Greengrass and Pak gave him snide looks.  Some of them told the sophomores about what had happened, and Lucrezia Black did not fail to take advantage of such a gift.  After making sure that Tom was in the living room, she announced with a venomous smile that a non-flyer could not be considered a man.  Tom thought sadly that he could impose a curse on each of his enemies.  But he didn't, remembering the conversation at the orphanage with Dumbledore.  Once, when Tom was six years old, the manager Ernie Spencer whipped him with a belt so that he did not get out of bed for a week.  You never know what punishments are provided at Hogwarts for attacks on rich youngsters?</p><p> </p><p>After three shelves, Tom was disappointed: there were no Riddles.  This, of course, did not say anything: the Hall of Fame seemed huge.  But Riddle's last name did not seem to be well known in the wizarding world.  Biting his lower lip, Tom continued to look at the iridescent glass, although a snide whisper inside suggested that he did not count on success.</p><p> </p><p> "Hello!"  - came a melodic voice from above.  A young woman's ghost flew past the ceiling.  The blonde girl with waist-length hair and a robe fluttering to the ground was probably a beauty, but her appearance was arrogant and unapproachable.</p><p> </p><p> “Good afternoon, Elena,” Tom smiled softly.  He found her name in the Encyclopedia of Ghosts and knew that she did not respond to the Gray Lady.</p><p> </p><p>" Do you know my name?"  - the ghost was surprised, flying up to the rack.  - "Usually my name is Gray Lady, but I do not respond to that nickname.  You always read late ... Why do I never see you in our living room?"</p><p> </p><p> “I am in Slytherin.” Tom pointed to the silver snake badge.</p><p> </p><p>" Indeed?  I thought you were in my house ... Most Slytherins are the offspring of an ancient bloodline that swell with pride.  Your name seems to be Tom?"</p><p> </p><p>" Yes, Tom.  Tom Riddle", - the boy nodded. - "Could you help me, Elena? " He tried to beg softly, but his voice sounded almost like an order.  - :Have you heard something about the Riddles?"</p><p> </p><p> “I've never heard such a name,” the Gray Lady frowned.  - "Are you left-handed?"  She looked at his gray-green tie in surprise.</p><p>Tom raised his eyebrows.</p><p> </p><p>" Is there something special about it?"</p><p> </p><p>" Not really….  But a lefty at Salazar College?"  - The woman frowned at first and immediately, with a melancholy smile, flew away.  Tom ran after her across the stone slabs and a couple of minutes later ran into the basalt hall.</p><p> </p><p> " Elena!"  He called loudly.  - "Elena, wait!" </p><p> </p><p> Ravenclaw's ghost rushed faster and flew over the wall, leaving Tom alone in the hallway.  Tom climbed down onto the marble steps and stared at his own shoes.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>On Halloween morning, Tom got up at six.  At night, as on the first day, he dreamed of a mirror with a disgusting face in the form of a snake's face.  Tom woke up in cold sweat and trembling hands.  He felt a slight chill even as he stepped into the living room and sat down to read his Advanced Herbalism textbook.</p><p> </p><p>Half an hour later, Tom realized that he could not read: today was Leslie's birthday, and the meaning of the words eluded him.  With a wave of his wand, Tom lit twelve candles: as many as she would have been.  A set of gilded Christmas cones stood before my eyes.  Why did Leslie, with her silvery laugh, have to die, while a useless creature like Billy lives?  Tom flinched at his own thought.  Stumbling with excitement, he went to breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>Entering the Great Hall, Tom smelled the sweetish scent of baked pumpkin.  Many bats were flying in the air.  It seemed to him that in the reflection of the torches he saw big red eyes, but it was an illusion of the play of lights.  An agitated Dumbledore walked briskly through the hall, chatting with Galatea Marrifoot.  Professor Herbert Beery, seated at the teaching table, frowned and muttered something to Principal Dippet.  Tom quickly picked up the Daily Prophet and delved into the editorial.  Deputy Minister of Magic Edward Wayne said that after the death of President Mustafa Kemal in Turkey, supporters of Grindelwald increased.  However, there was nothing surprising in the Turkish news: Iranian magicians had already sworn allegiance to the dark wizard, and fermentation was noticeable in British India.</p><p> </p><p> "Dreaming, Mudblood?"  Tom flinched when he saw Norton Mulciber.  -" I thought our Mister Know-it-all is learning something again".</p><p> </p><p>" Fuck you", - Tom turned away in annoyance, moving the tea.</p><p> </p><p> “You sound like a fucking Muggle,” Norton chuckled.  “No wonder you grew up as a flightless bastard"/</p><p> </p><p> "Really?  But I doubt your pureblood, Malci".  Riddle stared hatefully at Norton's expensive suede boots.  A moment later, a scream rang out, and his enemy sprawled on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Seated opposite Druella, Emilia and Araminta laughed.  Tom shuddered: after reading, he did not notice how the girls went out to breakfast and began to chat happily about who Eric Rosier, Druella's older brother, was dating.  All three were in new dark green robes and emerald hairpins in their hair.</p><p> </p><p> "You will pay for this, Mudblood," Mulciber groaned tearfully, rubbing his bruised elbow.</p><p> </p><p> “Uh-huh… certainly…” Tom muttered absently, taking a herbology scroll from his portfolio.  Norton spat and, getting up, walked away.  “Lousy bastard,” Riddle snorted after him.<br/><br/></p><p>" It should have been seen from the side, Tom ... "- Druella spat.  </p><p> </p><p>Araminta waved a small white hand.  Emilia smiled indulgently: she did not love Tom, but the light in her eyes showed that the girl liked Norton's fall. Tom glanced absently at the magic ceiling, which depicted a heavy downpour.  A stupid dream frightened him, then angered Norton.  It seemed to him that this is not the worst that can happen today.</p><p> </p><p> In herbalism class, Professor Beery enthusiastically talked about four ways to use pineapple.  Ravenclaws Julia Campbell, Miranda Littleton and Sally Cooper listened to his lecture with half an ear and kept whispering about something.  Tom suspected that the reason for their endless conversation was the moving pictures of Miranda, who painted beautifully.  Norton Mulciber, under the whisper of Crabbe and Greengrass, surreptitiously darted at them with fishy eyes.  The girls hissed, but did nothing.<br/><br/></p><p>Everything changed when Tom looked at Miranda's eraser.  She had a beautiful elastic band in a purple rose-patterned case.  Tom snorted as he imagined her hitting Crabbe in the forehead.  At the same moment, the eraser flew up and hit Anthony across the face.  The class thundered with laughter.  The outraged Professor Beery took fifteen points from the Ravenclaw, causing an enthusiastic hum among the Slytherins.</p><p> </p><p> “They say Professor Beery dreams of organizing a magic theater at Hogwarts,” Araminta whispered with delight as she left the classroom.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you haunted by the glory of the great actress, Burke?"  Lestrange chuckled.  “Mommy will die when she sees you in a long dress and white gloves".</p><p> </p><p>The Slytherins laughed.  Araminta, flushed, looked at Randolph with hatred.  Tom snorted: the actress seemed to him like a dear whore.  Muddy streams of water covered the high window, behind which the silhouettes of the Forbidden Forest were barely guessed.  After standing a little by the window, Tom went to the next lesson.</p><p> </p><p>In spell class, Professor Rajan announced that they were starting to learn levitation.  Pointing a wand at Susan Park's mouse, he made her fly to the delight of the students.  Tom trained in levitation all evening and had no doubts of success.  To Tom's chagrin, his partner was Anthony Crabbe.  At first he stared blankly at the quill, then began to wave his wand vigorously.</p><p> </p><p> “You spell it wrong,” Tom looked at Crabbe with undisguised contempt.  "Wingardium Leviosa!"  - he confidently waved his wand, and a long feather, breaking off from the desk, flew around the classroom.  Randolph, Druella, and Araminta applauded.  Frightened Hufflepuffs, except for the displeased snort of Philip Diggory, looked at Tom as a mysterious creature.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, great!" - Said Rajan exclaimed.  - "Look, Mr. Riddle succeeded".  - Tom smiled, but then stopped short: Professor Rajan carefully looked at his left hand.</p><p> </p><p>Mulciber, however, did not rehearse the spells and for the rest of the lesson let Crabbe and Greengrass sneer at Riddle.  Tom left the class in front of everyone and hurried to lunch.  Not so much was asked for the house, so that evening he was finally free.</p><p> </p><p> “I must admit you did well, Mudblood,” Mulciber chuckled as the students walked out into the hallway.</p><p> </p><p> " I am insanely happy to receive praise from such a gray mediocrity as you", - retorted Tom.  Walking down the corridor, the Hufflepuffs , a blond boy with thick glasses, Andrew Troyton, and a dark-haired girl, Lisa Carvey, looked at them warily.</p><p> </p><p> “You know, Tommy,” Norton sighed, “even if you learn all the spells, you're still a mudblood.  The earth will not turn over"</p><p>.</p><p> “And the Mudblood will remain a Mudblood,” Emilia laughed, straightening her long wheat hair as she walked.</p><p> </p><p> “Five points from Slytherin, Miss Greengrass,” Dumbledore said as he approached.  - "I will not tolerate this vile word".  </p><p> </p><p>Tom smiled, but the professor gave him a gaze, just like Mr. Ollivander did when he learned that Riddle was left-handed.  Frowning, Tom went to the lancet window and looked at the endless veil of clouds.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Last evening Tom sat in a armchair , fiddling with the fringe of his cape.  Sometimes, distracted from the book, he absentmindedly looked at the merrily burning flame in the fireplace: even it could not warm the damp chillness of the dungeons.  He was distracted by a strange hum.  On the left against the wall was a group of students.  From snatches of conversation, Tom realized that the teachers had posted ratings for the first time in two months.  Gasping with excitement, he rushed to the wall, near which stood ten hourglass with emeralds.  Each of the instruments was engraved with the student's name.</p><p> </p><p> "Sixty-five ... Incredible ..." Araminta's choked voice rang out.</p><p> </p><p>" Sixty five?"  - Emilia screamed, and, forgetting about manners, began to make her way to the clock.</p><p> </p><p>Tom muttered something.  Did a student get sixty-five points?  Against the background of eleven, fifteen, twenty points, it seemed incredible.  But in the first hours the emeralds froze at division 65. For a minute Tom looked at them and only then read: “<em>Riddle Tom Marvolo.  65 points.</em> "</p><p> </p><p>The huge living room floated before my eyes.  Druella, Martha, and Randolph were shouting something.  Many, including sophomores, viewed Tom as if he were wearing outlandish clothes.  Lucrezia bit her thin lips.  Riddle gave her a victorious look, but then met Norton's hateful eyes.</p><p> </p><p> Tom was the last to enter the bedroom, his neighbors were still awake.  Mulciber and Crabbe stood at the table.  Randolph and Alphard's canopies were open.  Tom realized that the enemies decided to stage a show.  However, he knew the disarming and blocking spells, and he had no doubt that he would repel an attack from both.  Sitting down on the bed, he put on his gray-green pajamas and pulled out a newspaper.</p><p> </p><p>"Studying the periodicals, Mudblood?"  Crabbe grinned.</p><p> </p><p> “You’re making amazing intellectual progress, Anthony,” Tom remarked in a silky voice.  - "Did you learn the phrase from the words of Mulcie or Grinnie?:</p><p> </p><p> “Don't you dare call me Mulcie!"  Norton exclaimed hatefully.</p><p> </p><p> “You call me Tommy, so why can't I?  - Tom tried to speak as indifferently as possible.</p><p> </p><p> “You're a Mudblood,” Norton spat, apparently finding no other argument.  “Do you know how pureblood sorcerers drive away people like you?"  - Tom looked at him with interest.  “Serpensortia,” exclaimed Mulciber.</p><p> </p><p>There was a sound like a shot.  A long black snake flew out of Norton's wand and, plopping to the floor, crawled across the floor with a menacing hiss.  Tom smiled.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Hi</em>,” he said calmly.</p><p> </p><p>The fat snake coiled obediently into a ring like an empty garden hose and stared fixedly at Tom.</p><p> </p><p> "<em>Master?</em>" She hissed.</p><p> </p><p> " <em>Calm down, friend</em>", - Tom got out of bed and smiled, looking at the shocked faces of the neighbors.  Reaching out, he stroked the head of the viper.  “<em>It would be nice to scare that bastard,</em>” Tom pointed at Mulciber.</p><p> </p><p>The snake obediently turned around and crawled towards Norton.  There was a screech.  Mulciber hunched his legs into the corner of the bed and hugged his knees convulsively.  The viper pulled its head to his bed.</p><p> </p><p> "Afraid of my black friends, Norton?"  - Tom chuckled, going to his bed.  In the greenish half-darkness, his long figure looked like a ghost.  “Dare to call me Mudblood one more time!"</p><p> </p><p> " <em>Sting him, Master?</em>"  - there was a low hiss.</p><p> </p><p> “<em>Not worth it,</em>” Tom hissed.  - "<em>Better crawl into the dungeons, friend".</em></p><p> </p><p>The black rings obediently crept towards the door.  Mulciber continued to babble.  Tom chuckled contemptuously and, turning, walked towards the exit.  Shocked, Lestrange, Black, and Crabbe parted as if a leper were walking through the bedroom. Tom did not notice as he walked out into the empty living room.  My head was turbulent.  Tom realized that he could not return to the bedroom.  Looking around, he climbed up into a large armchair by the fireplace and wrapped himself tighter in a thick green blanket.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Last Enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom shuddered and felt the soft leather handle.  My legs were numb, and a slight pain in my neck.  The mantel clock showed half past four: he slept in the armchair most of the night.  Tom remembered last night and felt his nerves stretch to the limit.</p><p> </p><p>The circular living room, adorned with silhouettes of snakes, shimmered with dull green light.  The dark windows reflected the muddy reflections of the lake water.  It was early in the morning of 1, November.  Tom decided to read before breakfast.  Rummaging through the briefcase, he was dismayed to notice that there were only a few books he had read.  The library remained, before the opening of which it was about an hour.  Ten minutes later, the boy walked through the empty corridors, admiring the arcades and porticoes.</p><p> </p><p>At six o'clock Tom entered the library room.  The semicircular windows were wet with streaks.  There were many books on the shelves, but the boy's eyes immediately grabbed a thick brown leather-bound volume with the title "The History of Hogwarts" written in gold letters.  That was interesting.  Tom grabbed the book.  At the end came the founders, and he opened the section about Salazar Slytherin.  On a large sheet of parchment was a portrait of a bald old man with a wrinkled forehead and blue-green eyes.  The text was displayed below the golden script:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Salazar Slytherin is one of the four founders of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Slytherin was born in the early 10th century in the swampy areas of Wales. Perfectly wielded Legilemency and was known as an ardent fighter for the purity of the blood of the Wizarding Society.  Appreciated purposefulness, ambition and purity of blood in students.  Salazar Slytherin knew how to speak Parseltongue, and this ability was passed on to his descendants.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>One phrase froze in front of Tom's eyes, so that the boy's breath caught in his throat.  Unsure that he understood it correctly, he read it again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Salazar Slytherin's hallmark was left-handedness.  Slytherin remains the only known left-handed British wizard.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>So that's why everyone was so worried about his left-handedness!  Tom looked thoughtfully at the candle hovering above him.  The resemblance to Slytherin was striking: both were left-handed, both knew snake language, both disliked Muggles ... For a moment it seemed to Tom that the elder from the portrait winked at him and smiled slightly.  What if Salazar Slytherin was his ancestor?</p><p> </p><p> “Hi,” came a soft female voice from above.</p><p> </p><p>" Good morning, Elena ...:" - Tom nodded absently.  </p><p> </p><p>He took the book with him and went out into a long, semi-dark corridor with moving pictures.  Ravenclaw's ghost followed him.  It seemed to him that even on the fly, the Gray Lady was mysteriously rustling her ghostly mantle.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you have a birthday yesterday?"  Riddle looked at Elena in surprise, stopping near a small staircase leading to the lower gallery. "The Bloody Baron told me that you lit twelve candles in the morning".</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, no,” Tom didn’t immediately understand what it was about.  He perceived yesterday so long that from that moment it seemed like an eternity.  - "It's my friend's birthday.  She's dead”, he smiled sadly.</p><p> </p><p> " I'm sorry", - Elena made a U-turn between the wall and the stone railing darkened with time.</p><p> </p><p> “Tell me,” Tom fiddled with the snake badge nervously.  - "Is it scary to die?"</p><p> </p><p>"Die?"  Elena frowned.  " I dont know.  I have never died.  Ghosts, my friend, were afraid to die.  We are stuck between life and death.</p><p>It means that it is not necessary to die at all ... "</p><p> </p><p>Leslie's waxen face floated before my eyes on the coffin pillow.  Tom winced.  He would definitely rather become a ghost than lie in a wooden box among the funeral needles.  Elena, as if realizing his condition, froze near the plaster portico.</p><p> </p><p> “Everyone was so excited yesterday.” Tom tried to change the subject and looked at the stairs leading to the hallway in front of the Great Hall.</p><p> </p><p> “No wonder,” Elena shrugged.  - "Rumors of the arrival of the Dark Master excite the wizards"</p><p>.</p><p>" Grindelwald?"  - asked Tom.</p><p> </p><p> "Hardly", - the Gray Lady spoke with slight excitement.  “Grindelwald is the current greatest Dark magician.  And the Dark Master is the future dark wizard, who, according to rumors, must surpass Gellert himself ... These are, of course, fairy tales, but there were rumors that his appearance was supposed to happen on Halloween"</p><p>.</p><p>Tom did not immediately understand the meaning of what was said, and when it dawned on him, the book fell out of his hands.</p><p> </p><p> " Could the Dark Master show up today?",  he gasped.  </p><p> </p><p>Elena nodded.  Tom turned pale, picked up the book, and rushed to the Great Hall.  Ghosts flew over the marble staircase, and Tom, oblivious to them, brushed his fluttering robes against the shiny rail.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Druella Rosier, like Tom, got up early.  At the beginning of seven, she sat in the Great Hall, making notes on parchment.  When Riddle entered, the girl looked at him curiously.  Tom, however, was too worried.  He quickly sat down at the table and looked absent-mindedly around.  The rain had stopped, but low clouds of snow covered the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p> “Tom”, Druella tugged at her friend's sleeve.  - "It's incredible!"</p><p> </p><p> "Do you think?"  Tom jerked involuntarily.  Before my eyes was a portrait of Slytherin and an image of a flying Gray Lady.  Despite the morning, the hall was dusk and, like in the evening, it was illuminated by the reflection of many candles and torches.</p><p> </p><p> " Are you still asking? Tom, wake up: sixty-five points!  Gryffindor nerd Linda Habbit will go mad with envy!  She is said to have scored thirty-two points last year”, Druella's bright green eyes shone with delight.</p><p> </p><p> “Even so…” , Tom whispered, relieved to know that Druella was chatting about school.  He looked at the red table, knowing who it was about.  Sophomore Linda Habbit was considered the best student in Gryffindor.  Tom immediately noticed her, with glasses and hair pulled into a short ponytail.</p><p> </p><p> “Can’t dress properly,” Druella chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at Linda's cheap robes and felt a liking for her.  The girl caught the Slytherin's gaze and frowned.  Riddle sent her a mocking smile; all sympathy for the Gryffindor vanished at once.<br/><br/></p><p> "Hi, Tom." Randolph came running up, looking confused.  " There you are ... Alf and I were worried where you disappeared for the whole night".</p><p> </p><p> " Since when is Black concerned about my fate?"  Tom grunted, sipping his apple juice.  Alphard with a stone face proceeded to Lucretia and her third-year cousin Walburga Black.  Tom never ceased to be surprised as he looked at Alphard's impassive face.  Whatever happened, it remained motionless: only by the glint of its gray eyes could one guess what the boy was thinking.</p><p> </p><p> “Tom,” Randolph whispered.  - "Do you understand that this is incredible?  Even the Blacks don't have that”, he shook his head.</p><p> </p><p> "No what?"  Druella gave Lestrange a curious look.  She just sent a paper dove to the Gryffindors with a scathing remark about Tom and Linda's successes.</p><p> </p><p> “Tom is a Parselmouths”,  Randolph whispered.</p><p> </p><p>" Are you kidding?"  Druella's eyebrows jumped in surprise.  Some Slytherins gave them curious glances, and Tom prayed to heaven that they would not hear their conversation.</p><p> </p><p> " Nothing like this.  Yesterday Tom, imagine, set a snake on Mulciber"</p><p> </p><p>" Did I incite?"  Riddle exclaimed indignantly.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, well ...Norton threw a snake at him, and Tom told her to attack Norton".  To Tom's displeasure, Araminta approached, listening to their conversation, flapping her dark blue eyes with long eyelashes.  “Norton had a fever all night.  So he sat on the bed until morning, wrapped in a blanket".</p><p> </p><p> “Tom…” Araminta looked completely white.  - " You know, they only knew how to speak with snakes ..."</p><p> </p><p>"Family of Slytherin?"  Riddle chuckled.  Crabbe and Mulciber went out to breakfast and sat at the edge of the table.  Norton was pale and his sharp-nosed face was drawn.  Catching Tom's gaze, he quickly lowered his eyes.</p><p> </p><p> "You know?"  Druella looked at him questioningly.  “This is very strange, Tom.  Such a gift".</p><p> </p><p> “Quiet you,” Tom hissed, watching Dumbledore walk through the hall.</p><p> </p><p> The professor turned and gave Tom an attentive look.  The boy did not leave the feeling that he knew about what had happened.</p><p> </p><p>" Why is he looking at me like that!"  Tom exploded.  Araminta jerked, nearly spilling cherry jam on the tablecloth.  " What am I, striped or speckled?  Or is the paste sticking out of my ears?"</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, Tom…” Druella muttered. “Never mind.  He just doesn't like Slytherins, that's all".</p><p> </p><p> “Maybe…” Tom muttered.  He looked at the green velvet pennants with the snake emblem.  Gold goblets glittered in the gloomy glow of torches.  Tom wondered for the hundredth time why Dumbledore did not like him, but he could not find an answer.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After walking down the hall for an hour, Tom went to herbal medicine.  Today there was a practical lesson in the greenhouses: Professor Biri showed the students the royal fly agarics.  The children watched with delight as these funny creatures, talking to each other, bowed low and took off their hats.  Tom sat next to a group of Ravenclaws of Miranda Littleton, Julia Campbell and Sally Cooper, who chuckled at him on the sly.  And if Miranda was quiet, then Julia and Sally more than made up for the lack of her enthusiasm, taking revenge for the bullying of Norton Mulciber.  In any case, they got so sick of Tom that he could hardly restrain himself from drawing his wand.  When the bell rang, Miranda dropped the parchment, and Riddle hurriedly helped her pick it up.</p><p> </p><p> "Oh, Tom, thanks", - the girl smiled embarrassedly.  </p><p> </p><p>In class, she always wore large glasses, and her gray eyes shone from under the glass.  Emilia Greengrass whispered something to Mulciber and Crabbe, and they burst out laughing.  Tom stared with hatred at the inseparable three.</p><p> </p><p>In the history of wizardry, the ghostly professor Beans spoke of the origin of the Dark Community in the seventh century.  Most of the Slytherins were dozing, only Tom and Druella were taking the lecture notes.  From the professor's explanations, it turned out that the dark forces have a hierarchy.  Tom, however, felt as if the ghost was not saying something important.</p><p> </p><p> “It was an interesting lesson, dirty… hmm… Tommy,” Norton muttered angrily as he left the classroom.</p><p> </p><p>" What do you want, Malsi?" - Tom snorted contemptuously.</p><p> </p><p> " More polite, Mad ..." - he snapped back, but stopped short.</p><p> </p><p> “You have forgotten my little black friends, Malsi?"  Tom raised his eyebrows maliciously.  -" I can call them again".  - Mulciber looked at him with hatred.  Tom chuckled and went to the North Tower.</p><p> </p><p>The Transfiguration lesson didn't promise any surprises.  After the roll call, Professor Dumbledore explained the "Vera Vertum" spell.  Placing a vase on the table, he instantly turned it into a large rat.  Screaming, Emilia kicked off her small patent leather shoes and climbed onto her desk, knocking the inkwell over Susan Park.  Tom looked at both of them with disdain.  Professor Dumbledore cleaned Susan's clothes with a wave of his wand and shod Emilia's shoes.</p><p> </p><p> “Calm down, rats are not as scary as they seem,” he smiled trustingly, as if the commotion amused him.  - "It's difficult to turn a vase into a rat.  First, ”the professor narrowed his eyes,“ we'll turn the eraser into a slug.</p><p> </p><p>Gray rubber bands appeared on the desks.  When he counted to three, Tom waved his wand and smiled.  A fat slug crawled importantly up his desk, while Randolph continued to wave his wand to Druella's malicious chuckles.  Noticing Tom's slug, Dumbledore nodded contentedly.</p><p> </p><p> “Mr. Riddle has already completed his assignment.  Just think, just a couple of minutes!  We train, we train ..." - he threw to the others.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked out the window.   The first snow had begun to fall, and the swirl of white outside prevented Tom from even gazing out onto the grounds.</p><p> </p><p> "Professor ..." came Susan's voice in the silence.  "Is it true that phoenixes are immortal ... sir?"</p><p> </p><p> “Yes and no, Miss Park,” the professor's gray robes described a semicircle.  - Phoenixes do not die themselves: they burn and are reborn from the ashes, although they can be killed.  And yet  even this semi-immortality often makes them suffer".</p><p><br/> "Suffer?"  Druella wondered.  The professor, with a wave of his wand, lit the candles.</p><p> </p><p> “It's hard for young minds like yours to understand,” Dumbledore sighed.  - "But, believe me, death is not the worst thing that can happen to us".</p><p> </p><p>Tom shuddered.  A vision of an orphanage hall with flowers and chandeliers covered with black crepe rose before my eyes.  Leslie lay in a coffin, and her pointed face looked waxy.  Tom remembered how her fingers moved, drawing circles on postcards, how easily she bounced when she left the classroom.</p><p> </p><p> " What could be worse than death, sir?"  - Tom asked thoughtfully, looking at the fluttering snowflakes.</p><p> </p><p> “You're wrong, Tom,” the Professor gave him an attentive look.  - "There are life forms that, believe me, are just awful".</p><p> </p><p>" But after all, life, professor?"  Riddle asked.  </p><p> </p><p>Norton and Emilia chuckled from behind.  Tom, however, was too excited to pay attention to them.</p><p> </p><p> “Not every life form is worth continuing, Tom".  Dumbledore spoke calmly, but his voice took on a steel tone.  The cheerful sparks disappeared from his eyes, and he gazed intently at the student with disbelief.  -" I hope you understand that death is better than some actions?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes ..." Tom shivered under Dumbledore's stern gaze.  There was something in the professor's eyes that made him want to run into the dungeons.</p><p> </p><p> "I'm glad," Dumbledore nodded, glaring at the boy.  He spoke calmly, but Tom preferred the professor to shout.  “Ponder this at your leisure, Mr. Riddle.  Until you understand that death is not the worst thing in life, I'm afraid you won't be able to become a good wizard".</p><p> </p><p>The lesson ended, and Professor Dumbledore took the vase and headed for the exit.  Tom did not look at him.  He jumped out into the hall and sat down on the marble steps, still breathing heavily.  His face had just glowed, but now it has turned pale, and his eyes have become like turquoise saucers.  Why did the professor of Transfiguration always tell him something hurtful?  There was a salty lump at his throat, and Tom clenched his fists tightly.</p><p> </p><p>Half an hour passed before he got up, climbed the stairs and walked to the window.  The snowfall intensified, turning into a wet blizzard.  The sparse multicolored foliage looked amazing under the sticky blanket of snow.  Tom looked at the endless clouds and shuddered: the sky was the same as on the day when they stood at the windowsill with Leslie.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Tom was in a bad mood at dinner.  Druella, Susan, and Randolph discussed the Peddle Cannons defeat and seemed to have forgotten about it.  He was not hungry, and Tom took the newspaper with excitement.  The Prophet was about the Reich of Grindelwald.  The "higher unknowns" created special camps in Germany and Austria, where they performed dark magic rites.  In some, Muggles had their arms and legs mutilated, in others, they pumped out blood for potions.  The weakened Muggles were gassed and then burned in crematoria.  Tom remembered the Gray Lady's words and felt fear creeping into his heart.</p><p> </p><p>The Potions lesson was fun.  Professor Slughorn was smiling as he taught his students how to brew a laughing potion.  Tom had known the recipe for a long time, and half an hour later the yellow potion sparkled in his cauldron.  But the Gryffindors this time took revenge for Emilia Greengrass' mockery: having dipped the glove into the cauldron, Lynn Pinetti sprayed into Susan Pak.  The girl's hand was stained, and Slughorn, to the laughter of the Gryffindors, took ten balls from their college.  As soon as the bell rang, Tom rushed to the Hall of Fame.</p><p> </p><p> " Tom, you're here!"  - he heard a clear voice at the entrance.</p><p>" I ... "- Tom looked up, expecting to see the Gray Lady, and immediately winced: Araminta burst into the hall.  The girl, apparently, ran for a long time, and her dark blue bow funny moved to the side.  "Has something happened, Burke?"  He asked condescendingly.</p><p> </p><p>" Tom, let's go outside ..." - The girl grabbed the hem of his robes.  - "All ours are already there!  Look what's going on! "</p><p> </p><p>She pointed to the window and jumped with pleasure.  Tom never thought snowfall could bring such joy.  It is not clear why he wanted to go out with everyone.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes… I’m now…” Tom smiled and jumped off to get the cloak.</p><p> </p><p>The unimaginable was happening around the school.  Pupils from the first to the sixth year gathered handfuls of snow, sculpted snowballs and threw them at each other.  Many fell out in the snow from head to toe, flushed and flushed.  Tom was not at all surprised to see that Professors Slughorn, Dumbledore and Beery were also involved in this noisy brawl, but he was amazed when he saw that the unflappable and reserved Professor Rajan was throwing snowballs as well as any student.  Tom didn’t notice the snowball hit on the shoulder.  He snorted and turned around.  Jenny Spaulding and Lynn Pinetti threw a snowball at him.</p><p> </p><p>Tom did not throw snowballs, but, after sticking balls, levitated them to the Gryffindors.  The snowballs, now snow bombs, exploded, showering everyone in flakes of snow.  Soon, many students began to poke sticks into snowballs, and shower them on several opponents.  Tom chased after Gryffindor Mona McCabe, who screeched to the still-frozen Black Lake.  Ignotus Pruett ran to help his friend, and Tom began to sprinkle them with clouds of powder snow.  For the first time since Leslie's death, he felt extraordinary lightness.  He didn't want to think about anything, but just play, wallow in the snow and laugh.</p><p> </p><p>But, unfortunately, everything comes to an end.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, a cotton came from the Forbidden Forest.  Three green stripes lit up the sky.  All were quiet.  Flashing, they merged into a giant glowing dome.  A strange figure in a black robe stepped out onto the snowy edge.</p><p> </p><p> “I tell you the Circle is complete!"  The man shouted.  - "The Dark Master is close!  The last enemy will be destroyed - death!"</p><p> </p><p>The children fled in fear.  Senior students pushed the kids aside.  Tom realized that it was dangerous, but could not take his eyes off the sorcerer.  Slughorn and Dumbledore were making their way towards the madman.  Suddenly one of the girls slipped, and the madman aimed his wand at her.</p><p> </p><p> " The Dark era is coming!"  In the dull glare of a blizzard, his black hoodie resembled a bat.  “There will be no mercy for either Mudbloods or Blood Traitors!  Look here: Avada Kedavra!" </p><p> </p><p>He shouted, pointing his wand at the girl. Tom was blinded by the green beam.  With the remains of his consciousness, he saw Slughorn shout out the spell "Stupefy".  The man in black fell unconscious.</p><p> </p><p> "Rather, rather," Dumbledore shouted, turning the girl's body.</p><p> </p><p>There was a cry.  Tom was still staring uncomprehendingly.  The disciples ran to the body.  The professors shook the girl, but nothing happened.  The neck and arms hung limply.  Lynn Pinetti's body became a cold corpse.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Fireplace flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the next month, Hogwarts seemed to be buried under a mourning veil.  The funeral of Lynn Pinetti, which Headmaster Dippet turned into an overwhelming ceremony, made fun to be forgotten.  Tom lived through the funeral ceremonies again: farewell in the Great Hall, Dippet's long speech, the cremation ceremony in green fire, and the erection of a tomb in Hogsmeade cemetery.  Tom had a chill: all night he turned without sleep, dreaming of a warm heating pad.  Quidditch matches were canceled, and trips to the Forbidden Forest and the Foothills were now punished by punishment cells.</p><p> </p><p>Either because of the general gloomy atmosphere, or because of his nightmares, Tom plunged headlong into his studies.  Every day he studied a bunch of additional literature, so in the classroom he always got top marks.  Five hours of sleep was enough for him, and in the evenings he could sit for a long time in the library, practice spells or read in the living room.  From the outside it seemed that he was tormented by a hidden sadness.  Randolph, Druella and Araminta were still his only friends, although they considered Tom's company too boring.  This, however, did not stop all three of them from regularly asking Riddle to write off their homework.  Tom didn’t refuse them: extra supporters on Slytherin would never hurt.  And yet, watching these three eagerly read his scrolls, the boy felt disgust: writing off someone else's work seemed to him the height of humiliation.</p><p> </p><p>Moving away from his classmates, Tom was much more interested in the life of ghosts.  He liked to watch how these creatures easily pass through the stone walls with smudges and float down the corridor, now accelerating, then slowing down the flight.  Tom was also interested in how they managed to escape death, remaining, unlike Leslie and Lynn, in the world of the living.  In fact, he saw far more ghosts than anyone else.  Even Sir Nicholas de Mimsey Delphington, the capricious ghost of Gryffindor, occasionally nodded to Tom when he met.  Tom's favorite ghost was, however, not the Bloody Baron, but the Gray Lady.  Tom liked to ask Elena about ancient times and listen to her quiet iridescent voice in response.  In his spare time, he often wandered the corridors of the towers in search of the ghost of Ravenclaw.</p><p> </p><p>The man in black was so weak that he died the next day.  However, he was haunted by his words "The last enemy to be destroyed is death": after all, he saw this inscription in the cave.  It must have had something to do with defense against the dark arts, and perhaps the darkest magic as well.  Usually Tom could be easily found in a library with a huge pile of books, flipping through the table of contents in search of the words "ENEMY" and "DEATH".  But after countless hours of reading, Tom could not find anything suitable in any book.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The last Monday before Christmas break was December 19th.  On the eve of Tom, he again had a terrible dream, only now the snake-like face quickly turned into his reflection.  Tom pulled back the curtains and, trembling with fear, went out into the dim living room.  It was half past five, too early for breakfast.  The boy sat down on the sofa and, shivering from the coolness, looked in the mirror, where a strange reflection flashed.  For a moment, Tom was afraid that now he would see the snake-like face again.  But this, apparently, was just the spirit of the mirror, sending him a greeting.</p><p> </p><p>It must have been half an hour before Tom noticed black high heels next to the chair.  These were undoubtedly Lucrezia Black's shoes.  Yesterday, a relative gave her white pumps for her birthday, and the Slytherin showed them to her friends.  It looks like she left her black uniform shoes by the chair.  This was a great chance.</p><p> </p><p> “Vera Vertum”,  Tom whispered, pointing his wand at a pencil on the floor.  A second later, a long black leech was wriggling on the carpet.  Using levitation, the boy threw it into the pointed toe of his shoe.</p><p> </p><p>Taking his wand away, Tom went to breakfast.  It became cold in the dungeons, and steam was pouring out of the corridors.  Tom climbed the stairs, passed the Small Gallery, but paused near the staff room.  Someone was talking behind the ajar door.  Tom knew eavesdropping was bad, but he couldn't get over his curiosity.</p><p> </p><p> “… The Dark community is becoming more active”, Professor Dumbledore said.  - "All over Britain there are messages: "The Dark Master is coming" and "The last enemy will be destroyed - death" ...."</p><p> </p><p> “You attach too much importance to this, Albus,” said Professor Merriffot.  - "I still wonder how you with such intelligence and talent can believe in some dark superstition".</p><p> </p><p> “Have you not yet convinced yourself, Galatea, that almost all superstitions tell the truth?"  Dumbledore asked softly.</p><p> </p><p> “The last enemy to be destroyed is death,” said Professor Biri thoughtfully.  “I wonder what this phrase has to do with the Dark Master".</p><p> </p><p> “I think we're talking about Grindelwald,” interjected Merriffot.</p><p> </p><p>" Maybe".  Dumbledore's voice sounded calm, but Tom was sure he was worried.  -"Let's not forget that the winter solstice is coming, and at this time a new circle of struggle between Light and Darkness usually opens". </p><p> </p><p>Tom felt his legs give way and, trembling, went to breakfast. The Great Hall was preparing for the holiday.  The walls were hung with garlands of holly and mistletoe, and on the sides were Christmas trees, some gleaming with tiny icicles, others shining with hundreds of candles.  Professor Rajan was holding a magic wand, from which emerged silver balls with moving drawings of the winter forest.  Obeying the teacher, they floated up and settled on thorny branches.  Curious Jenny Spaulding jumped up to examine the toys.  The ghosts rushing by were chatting about the northern lights on the ceiling on Christmas night.</p><p> </p><p>" Where have you been?"  - whispered Druella, as soon as Tom sat down and moved the pumpkin juice.  - "By evening, Professor Rajan will hang garlands here!"</p><p> </p><p>" Really? " Tom muttered, thinking about the conversation in the staff room.  It was only now that he noticed that Dumbledore had entered, looking at him strangely, with a mixture of concern and suspicion.  The boy smiled faintly and took up his sandwich, feeling even worse.<br/><br/></p><p> “It's a shame I won't stay at school”, the girl sighed.  “Hey, Tom!” she tugged at his sleeve, “What's wrong with you?</p><p> </p><p> “I just had a bad dream,” Tom muttered.  He looked confused and pale, but he couldn’t help himself.  Professor Dumbledore continued to glare at him for a long time.  Tom tried not to pay attention to it, he could not help thinking.  Maybe the professor dislikes him, or is there really something wrong with him?  What's so special about having nightmares anyway?</p><p> </p><p> “Oh… what's going on in the living room,” Tom shuddered when he heard Araminta's soft voice.  - Lou is crying: some bastard threw a leech in her shoe!</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at the door.  Alphard and Lucretia Black entered the Great Hall.  The boy supported his cousin by the hand.  The girl continued to sob, her long golden hair tousled around her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>" That's not you?"  Randolph whispered.  Lucrezia's hysteria amused him.</p><p> </p><p> “I’m not the only enemy that this bastard has managed to make”, Riddle shrugged indifferently.  </p><p> </p><p>Sir Nicholas, the capricious ghost of Gryffindor, flew past, looked at Tom extremely condemningly and rushed away. His heart was beating violently, and Tom tried his best to keep calm.  Looking at the trembling Lucretia, he felt pity for a moment, but immediately pinched himself: her tears meant complete surrender.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>On the eve of the holidays, the lessons were chaotic.  Most of the students whispered about the upcoming Christmas, painted, or just looked out the window.  Many people wanted to drop everything and run outside, play snowballs or make snowmen.  Professor Rajan went a lot of patient to get the children  listening to the explanations.  They practiced the lighting spell for the rest of the lesson, and Tom watched with a smile as red-haired Hufflapuff Ella Bones confused it with a spark spell.</p><p> </p><p>There was a usual practical lesson on transfiguration.  Professor Dumbledore announced that today they are moving towards group transformations.  After distributing three buttons from a coat to each, he asked to transform them into beetles.  Tom soon noticed that the professor was looking at him suspiciously.  Looks like he realized I was near the staff room, Riddle mused, transforming the shiny black buttons into black beetles.  "It probably is."  Tom, however, did everything the first time, and Dumbledore set him up as an example for the rest.  Norton gave Riddle a fierce look, but did not dare say anything.</p><p> </p><p> “I must say that I am pleased with your progress, Tom”, the Professor of Transfiguration smiled as the other students left the class.  - From the next six months I will transfer you to an individual plan.</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you, sir…” Riddle smiled hesitantly, but the joyous expression faded from his face when he noticed that the professor was not smiling back at him.  Dumbledore looked at him exactly like Mr. Ollivander when he learned that Tom was left-handed.  It was a studying, gaze that very much embarrassed the boy.</p><p> </p><p>"I have one request, Tom", - said the professor, as if thinking about something.  “I don't think you should wander around Hogwarts early in the morning alone".</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t…” Tom hesitated.</p><p> </p><p> "Fine, let's go, Mr Riddle", Dumbledore nodded.  Tom obeyed, all the way trying to figure out why the Transfiguration teacher disliked him.  He undoubtedly realized that the boy had overheard the conversation in the staff room, and was unhappy with this.</p><p> </p><p>Defense Against the Dark Arts was interesting.  Professor Merrythought talked about Grindylows, the pale horned demons of the lakes whose drawings horrified Araminta Burke.  Mulciber and Crabbe  listened to Emilia Greengrass, who, as usual, told tales - this time about how she once harnessed a trio of Grindylows to her cart and rode on the lake, chasing them.  Professor Merrythought took ten from Slytherin.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked out the window.  The low sky was completely gray.  It began to snow again, and thorny snowflakes slowly fell on the icy parapets of the basalt towers.  Putting a hand under his cheek, Tom watched thoughtfully as the troll Ogg dragged a huge fir.</p><p> </p><p> “Professor,” Tom raised his hand with excitement.  “Please tell me…” he continued, noticing Professor Merrythought nod of approval.  - Why are there so many Dark wizards in the German states?"</p><p> </p><p>The creak of the goose feathers stopped.  The Slytherins turned to Tom as if on cue.  Araminta screamed.  Professor Marrifoot's gray eyebrows went up.</p><p> </p><p> "Well ..." - she circled the class with slight amazement.  “Mr. Riddle is right.  As you know", - said Professor Merrythought, pacing the class, - "we periodically hold a tournament of three wizards: competitions for young magicians from Hogwarts, the French school of Beauxbatons and the Russian school of Durmstrang.  But we have never called and will not invite German magicians to the tournament".</p><p> </p><p>"But why?"  Randolph Lestrange was shocked.</p><p> </p><p> "The Dark wizards are cruel and inhuman.  And yet, - said Professor Merrythought, - they kill for some reason.  Rare Dark magicians kill and torture people just like that - out of scientific interest.  Only German wizards think - her robes described a semicircle - that they are allowed to do so.  They believe that science is above morality, it is worth ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Beyond the Good and Evil”,  Tom whispered thoughtfully.</p><p> </p><p>Professor Merrythought seemed shocked.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes ... that's right ..." she muttered.  - "Where did you find out about this, Tom?"</p><p> </p><p> “I…” Tom looked around the silent class in dismay.  -" I read this phrase on the cover of one of the books of the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche".</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, yes,” Galatea Merrythought nodded.  -" Grindelwald's teacher, the Dark wizard Friedrich Nietzsche.  In the end, he went mad with black magic".  - At these words, Tom felt a strange excitement.  “He wrote several books proving the insignificance of Muggles and the superiority of wizards, whom he called" supermen "for the sake of keeping the Statute of Secrecy".</p><p> </p><p>A dry thorny blizzard intensified.  The bell rang and Professor Merrythought nodded and smiled at Tom.  The classmates ran to lunch, but Tom didn't notice.  Confusion reigned in my head.  A high, haughty voice whispered that the German wizards were right.  Another voice - quiet and childish - said it was all disgusting.</p><p> </p><p>"Think about it logically, a cold voice whispered mockingly.  Does a Wizard have to make excuses to such scum as Patrick or Brenda?  Can they generally be considered people in our understanding? "</p><p> </p><p>Tom paused for a moment, startled by his thought.  For an one moment he agreed with this voice, but then, shaking his head, ran up the marble staircase.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately at the windowsill, where he usually sat during recess, Miranda Littleton stood with a sheet of Whatman paper.  The girl, as usual, was not in a uniform, but in a dark jacket made of thin leather.  Tom grimaced as he watched the Ravenclaw occupy his windowsill, but looking at the Whatman paper he cried out in amazement.  The falling snowflakes seemed so real that Tom could not tell if he was looking out the window or at the drawing.</p><p> </p><p> " Incredible ..." - he whispered, looking at the fluttering white dots.</p><p> </p><p>" Liked?"  - the girl shuddered, as if coming out of oblivion.</p><p> </p><p> "They are ... just like real ..." Tom muttered.  The ashen sky with heavy snow was so similar to the picture that it seemed to Tom that he was between two mirrors.</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you, Tom… I tried”, Miranda smiled shyly.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at the drawing again.  For some reason he wanted to look at these snowflakes again and again.  Smiling suddenly, he ran to dinner.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Druella told the truth: on the eve of dinner, the whole room was decorated with pine branches, icicles and cones.  Stretched along the walls between the torches were garlands of large crystal cylinders, in each of which a tiny fairy sat.  Tom sat down at the end of the table and studied the green-silvery pennants of his college.  Miranda entered a few seconds before the start of the party, and Tom was sure she glanced in his direction before sitting down at her table.  As soon as the gilded plates were filled with food, Professor Rajan sent a column of silvery sparks into the air.  Each fairy immediately waved her wand and lit her crystal house.</p><p> </p><p> “Vacation will begin in two days,” announced Dippet.  “Most of you will go home.  But for those who stay at the school, it will be a wonderful holiday".</p><p> </p><p>It dawned on Tom that the teachers were organizing such a magnificent party in order to dull the memories of Lynn Pinetti's death.  The other Slytherins chatted nonchalantly, but Tom was in no hurry to enter the conversation.  He was too busy watching Professor Dumbledore.  The Transfiguration teacher was having fun with the lanky Professor Beery, but every now and then his shiny glasses looked in the direction where Tom was sitting, and then a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.  In fact, Tom didn't really believe that Dumbledore was looking at him so strangely, because he overheard the conversation in the staff room that morning.  Then why not?  From his glances, the boy immediately lost his already bad appetite.</p><p> </p><p> “I don't see anything wrong with that, Tom,” Druella shrugged when he asked her what she thought about it.  - "He just never saw such a talent as you, and now he can not calm down"</p><p>.</p><p> “This can be considered a compliment,” Tom sighed and began to eat fries again.</p><p> </p><p> “You know, Tom,” Druella whispered.  - "Sorry to interfere, but your surname haunts me"</p><p>.</p><p>  "Since when?"  - Tom snorted, listening to the measured beat of her heels.</p><p> </p><p> “Riddle means riddle,” Druella pointed out.  - And you are left-handed and Parselmouth.  What if your parents hid you in an orphanage and deliberately called you a "mystery"?"</p><p> </p><p>Startled, Tom stopped at the column.  The day before, he had looked through the list of school leaders over the past half century and never found his last name.  Perhaps Druella was right ... Tom shuddered and followed her.  On the stairs he saw the Bloody Baron, carried away by conversation with the poltergeist Peeves, who was bowing and muttering something in an oily voice.  The boy shuddered and turned away: as soon as the Baron coughed, a whole liter of ghostly blood poured out of his cut throat.  Tom didn't want to see it again.</p><p> </p><p>In the living room, as usual, there was a greenish dusk.  Silhouettes of Slytherins flickered around the sofas and armchairs.  The students seem to have decided to have a small celebration in honor of the upcoming holidays: most of them crowded in the living room, talking excitedly about something.  About fifteen minutes later, two fourth-year students returned from the kitchen loaded with food and bottles of butter beer.  Tom, however, did not like noisy holidays, and besides, he did not leave a vague sense of anxiety. Sitting in a chair, the boy, with a wave of his wand, lit a thick white candle and buried himself in a library book.  He completely immersed himself in reading and all evening did not take his eyes off the battered tome.</p><p> </p><p>The clock struck him.  It was midnight.  Tom looked around and realized that the holiday had dragged on.  The figures in the living room, however, have become smaller.  Only Randolph and Araminta were spinning around the fireplace.  Carried away by some kind of game, they seem to have completely forgotten about the lights out.</p><p> </p><p>" Tom, come here!  Merlin, do you ever do anything other than reading?"  Exclaimed Araminta capriciously.  - "Better come to us, look what a miracle!  With a sigh, Tom put down the book and walked over to his friends".</p><p> </p><p> "What's here ..." he muttered, but stopped short.  A snake figurine was laid out on the side of the fireplace with malachite stones.</p><p> </p><p>" Have you seen"   Lestrange remarked.  " They say that this fireplace was built either by Slytherin himself, or by his descendant Gaynor Gaunt".</p><p> </p><p> “Tell her something serpentine,” Araminta whispered.  Tom looked at her with indulgent curiosity.  But there was so much naive supplication in the girl's blue eyes that he smiled.</p><p> </p><p>" Move away ... :- Tom felt as if the figure of the snake moved.  “<em>Open up</em>,” he hissed.</p><p> </p><p>And then something happened that no one expected.  The living room became dark.  The flame went out.  Tom looked up sharply, but couldn't see anything.  Araminta and several other girls screamed heart-rendingly.  The only lighting was the lights on the sticks, but soon they also went out.  Tom stared at his wand in surprise, and then began to stare at the dark living room.  Turning to the fireplace, he saw what was the matter, and did not hold back a sigh of amazement.</p><p> </p><p>The flame flared up again, only now it was green.  As soon as it lit up the living room, there was a clap in the fireplace, and a light green cloud jumped out of it.  It hung in the air for a minute, and then, as in a cave, it stirred.  Huge flickering green letters loomed above the mantelpiece for all to see.  It seemed to him again that they were being led out by an invisible hand:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>THE  lAST ENEMY THAT SHALL BE DESTROYED IS DEATH</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Something rumbled like as cannon volley, and the lights came on again in the living room.  As soon as the fireplace flared up and the torches blazed, the inscription melted in clouds of smoke.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Book and the Mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Slytherins were all late to breakfast the next morning.  They came whispering, all disheveled, with red, swollen eyelids, as if they hadn't closed their eyes that night.  Indeed, none of them slept.  All the night long they looked for the culprit and wondered what the message meant.  Tom simply watched them, not taking part in the searches and discussions, not because he had no thoughts on this matter, but because he was too shocked to express his opinion.</p><p> </p><p>Tom sighed inwardly.  They cast lots, and in some incomprehensible way it fell to him to tell about everything to Director Dippet.  He was actually talking to Dumbledore about something, which made matters even more complicated.  The Transfiguration Professor would have heard everything from Tom's own lips, not from Headmaster Dippet.  Tom had no idea why his legs were giving in to the thought, but it was true.  When the others were seated, Tom took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and walked over to the instructors' table.</p><p> </p><p> "... a really funny situation," Headmaster Dippet said cheerfully to Professor Dumbledore.  -"So that's when I told him ..."</p><p> </p><p> “Headmaster Dippet,” Tom interrupted, blushing slightly.  He didn't want to start a conversation with Dippet in front of Dumbledore.</p><p> </p><p>" Yes, Mr. Riddle?"</p><p>Tom blushed even more.  Hastily and confusedly, he described yesterday's events, staring at the floor so as not to see the gazes rushing towards him, especially Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes.  There was silence at the table, and Tom slowly raised his head.  Headmaster Dippet seemed as confused as most of the other teachers.  Professor Dumbledore, however, looked not only shocked but furious.  The sparkles disappeared from his eyes, he stared at Tom in disbelief.</p><p> </p><p>" Why didn't you tell the teachers as soon as it happened?"  Dumbledore finally asked, studying the little wizard with piercing eyes.  His voice was calm, but Tom would rather he screamed.</p><p> </p><p> "I ..." Tom cringed fearfully under Dumbledore's stern gaze.  -" I am not guilty!" -  He whispered.  - "Honestly, I did not think it was so important, I would definitely tell you right away if I knew that everything was so serious!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom realized that at the same time he looked as if he was to blame for all mortal sins.  There was something in Dumbledore's gaze that made him want to turn into a grain of sand and disappear forever.  Tom had never cried, but now he was about to cry.  Meanwhile, Dumbledore considered what he had heard.</p><p> </p><p>" I see.  Do you have any suggestions about who might send this message?" </p><p> </p><p>He asked sharply.  It might have sounded like paranoia, but Tom was sure the professor was blaming him.</p><p> </p><p>"No, Professor,  I have nothing to do with this!  I swear I didn't! " - If Tom could see himself from the outside, he would have decided that he was on the verge of hysteria.  He tried to pull himself together, but to no avail.  “I would never do anything like this, Professor, I swear it wasn't me!  Please believe me!"</p><p> </p><p>Anger vanished from Dumbledore's gaze, replaced by concern and concern.</p><p> </p><p> “I didn't say you did it, Tom,” he hastily assured, looking at the boy’s face.  It had just glowed, but now it has turned terribly pale, its eyes have become like blue-green saucers. Headmaster Dippet finally saw fit to intervene.</p><p> </p><p> “Uh… thanks, Mr. Riddle.  We will send people to your living room to find the cause of this trouble, ” he said.  " Go back to breakfast."</p><p> </p><p>Tom didn’t eat breakfast, but instead ran out into the hall.  He sank to a seat on the marble staircase and slapped himself hard, still breathing very fast. His face was wet.  It took Tom a while to realize that tears were rolling down his cheeks.  He hastily took out a handkerchief and wiped them off, but it was useless because the tears flowed again.</p><p> </p><p> "Look at you," chuckled a sarcastic inner voice.  -" You are like a girl.  Better not let Norton and Emilia see this, or they will die of laughter.</p><p> </p><p>Two minutes later, the doors of the Great Hall swung open and Professor Dumbledore stepped out.  Tom paid no attention to him, he no longer tried to restrain himself and cried bitterly, hiding his face in his palms.  Dumbledore noticed the boy and walked over to him.  Tom only raised his head when the professor sat down next to him.  Now Dumbledore didn't seem angry at all.</p><p> </p><p> "Tom, I would like to apologize to you.  It sounds like you thought I was angry with you".</p><p> </p><p> “It was so,” Tom snapped, rather harshly, which he himself did not expect.</p><p> </p><p>" Not at all".  The news you shared was awesome, but by no means pleasant. " This is what upset me, not you.  Perhaps I spoke too harshly to you?"  Tom nodded, and Professor Dumbledore smiled slightly.</p><p> </p><p>" I'm very regret about it.  For now, understand, I have not accused you of anything.  Now I will leave you".  Professor Dumbledore got up to leave.</p><p> </p><p>" Professor!"  - called him Tom.  - "That message, what did it mean?"</p><p> </p><p>The teacher of transfiguration clearly intended to leave, but at these words he stopped and for a while silently looked at the student.</p><p> </p><p> "Breakfast ends, Tom," Dumbledore said finally.  At these words, lights flickered in his cold eyes.  - "You have to go so as not to be late for herbal medicine.  Have a nice day", - he nodded and headed for the exit.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>O the lunch, Hogwarts Headmistress Rosamund Darnley, Gryffindor, made a list of the students staying at school during the Christmas break.  Tom enrolled in it one of the first.  Christmas has always been terrible at the shelter.  The best thing that Tom remembered was when he was eight years old when the kind nurse Jane bought him some soy bars.  The worst day at Hogwarts was a hundred times better than the best day at the orphanage.</p><p> </p><p>Tom also wanted to know more about The Dark Master.  From the serious voice of Professor Dumbledore, he knew that the inscription above the fireplace meant something very important, and he was dying to know what it was.  In the end, it was this phrase that the man in black shouted out, and the dark wizards sent it to each other as evidence of the coming of their messiah.  At the very thought of this, Tom was seized with fear and, at the same time, an irresistible desire to solve the mystery.  Tom has not yet found the right answer in any book, but he only needed time to rummage through the entire library, without being distracted by lessons and homework.  However, it seemed to Tom that Dumbledore was trying to follow him: the professor of transfiguration seemed to want to make sure that Tom was not interested in any forbidden books.</p><p> </p><p>Tom slept on the first day of vacation.  The day before, he studied until three o'clock and did all his homework.  The mantel clock showed ten.  It was December 22nd, the anniversary of their short-lived friendship with Leslie, but for the first time Tom felt no pain.  Yawning enough, he ran to breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>The Great Hall was empty.  The magic ceiling depicted a wet blizzard.  Twelve Christmas fir trees shimmered with bright lights.  At the teacher's table, Professor Merrythought was reading The Daily Prophet, pouring cream into the coffee.  Tom sat down at the table and, trying not to make noise, began to gobble up the custard biscuits.</p><p> </p><p> " Oh, hi, Tom.  Finally you got enough sleep ... - Professor Merrythought smiled, but Tom knew immediately that she was upset.</p><p> </p><p> "Uh ... Good morning, Professor," Tom muttered.  - "Something happened?"</p><p> </p><p> “Like all Slytherins, you are discerning.” Professor Merrythought put down the newspaper.  “Bad news, Tom.  Grindelwald sent a bunch of expeditions to Tibet".</p><p> </p><p>" Are these any special items?"  - muttered the surprised Tom.  "Cheerful people in black uniforms were moving around the big picture shop, leading the excavations".</p><p> </p><p>" Yes, ancient magical artifacts.  I'm afraid that Grindelwald is preparing for a big war.  Well, rest”, Professor Merrythought nodded and, casting a glance at Tom's left hand, went to the exit.</p><p> </p><p>After finishing breakfast, Riddle went to the library.  The corridor on the ground floor was blocked off by a fluffy tree, and Tom ran up the stairs with a sigh.  Rare visitors sat in the reading room.  Miss Lymon's grumpy librarian was out of sight.  Encouraged, Tom took out his wand to order a search on the topic "Dark Master", but, hearing footsteps, dived into a niche between the shelves.</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t know for sure,” Dippet said.  “But Professor Dumbledore is very excited.  As recently as yesterday, he said that this inscription over the fireplace was obviously a manifestation of dark magic.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Albus is exaggerating. ”Professor Slughorn's voice was soft as usual.  “You know as well as I do, Armando, that he often tends to make an elephant out of a fly.</p><p> </p><p> “Maybe…” Dippet's receding voice seemed to Tom weak and cracked.  - "The Dark  Community are very active now.  By the way, Horace, tell Miss Lymon to see to the Restricted Section".</p><p> </p><p>An agitated Tom came out of hiding, still shaking.  He realized that he could not read now and quickly went into the dungeons.  The living room was lit with a dim greenish light.  There was a small fir tree near the fireplace: they seemed to have been installed not only in the Great Hall, but in all living rooms.  At a small table, Randolph and Araminta were playing magic chess.  Apart from Tom, they were the only first-year Slytherins left over the holidays at school.</p><p> </p><p> "Knight to E2!" Araminta exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p> “The queen is on E2,” Randolph said calmly.  - "Checkmate!"</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t play like that,” Araminta capriciously dropped the chess set.  - "Oh, Tom, hello!"  She wondered.  - "Did you find something about that inscription?"</p><p> </p><p> “No,” Tom grumbled, making himself comfortable in the dark green armchair.  “Dumbledore is bothering me!"  Apparently that inscription was some form of dark magic.  Perhaps, ”he lowered his voice,“ Grindelwald himself is behind this.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, Tom…” Araminta almost fell off her chair with excitement.  “But all books about dark magic are kept in the Restricted  Section".</p><p> </p><p> “I know,” Tom said, admiring the play of candles on the tree.  " And I'm thinking how to get there".  - He liked the ball with a moving branch of black rowan: the rowan orchard was very beautiful against the background of a beige winter sky.  - "Maybe you should try to go there at night?"</p><p> </p><p> "Don't do it, Tom!  Lestrange said.  “If Miss Lymon catches you, you may be punished or expelled.  Araminta nodded.  - Let's go play snowballs with us".</p><p> </p><p>They walked out into the lobby, which seemed huge without the usual crowd of students.  The air outside was colder than Tom could have imagined, so he was glad to himself that he was wearing a warm raincoat.  A strong wet blizzard quickly swept the drifts.  Feet stuck in the snow, and the giant meadow merged into a huge white haze to the very tops of the Forbidden Forest.  Araminta was wrapped in a navy blue cloak, and her little beige boots were amusingly stuck in the snowdrifts.  Tom turned around and was immediately hit by a snowball on the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p> "Oh, you ..." - shouted Tom, but then stopped short.  </p><p> </p><p>Miranda Littleton ran across the field, bogged down in the snowdrifts.  Tom could not help smiling as he watched her clumsily make her way through the snow drifts.</p><p> </p><p>" May I come with you? " She cried, waving her hand.</p><p> </p><p>" Why not?"  Tom asked suddenly.  “Join us…” Miranda's large blue-gray eyes shone with a strange light, and her glasses slid funny on the tip of her long nose.</p><p> </p><p> " Tom, what are you saying? " Araminta stamped her foot.  -" She's a Ravenclaw!  Litter of flea cats".</p><p> </p><p> “It doesn't stop you from chatting with Owen during recess,” Tom said coldly.</p><p> </p><p> “Fine,” Araminta frowned. “But then you're paired with this… tit:.  </p><p> </p><p>The Slytherin threw a snowball at Miranda, and the girl, not having time to dodge, began to dust off her glasses. For two hours, all four fought a snow duel.  Miranda shot badly, and Tom had to defend the hill himself.  However, his partner mastered the production of snowballs, and, using levitation, began to direct them at the Slytherins.  Randolph and Araminta ran screaming towards the lake, and Tom and Miranda chased them to the boulder.  No one noticed how the snowflakes began to hide in the thick twilight.</p><p> </p><p>“It s time…” Araminta said, looking at the snowy lawn.</p><p> </p><p>" Right.  Nowadays it is forbidden to walk in the evening”, Miranda muttered.  Tom noted that she had a soft voice with a slight hoarseness.</p><p> </p><p>The granite steps were covered with sleet.  Araminta was discussing something with Lestrange, while Tom walked along with Miranda, wrapped in a scarf.  Many torches flew in the air, illuminating the ice figures standing at the entrance.</p><p> </p><p> “You know, Tom,” Miranda said, “I understand you.  My parents also died in childhood, and I was raised by my grandmother".</p><p> </p><p> “Sorry…” Riddle  muttered.  He looked at Miranda and only now realized that there was a hidden sadness in her face.</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you,” the girl smiled softly.  “But I don’t remember them.  And my grandmother loves me very much and pampers me.  She even gave me a lazily cat". </p><p> </p><p> From the words of Miranda it came out that this clever animal often treated her for colds, lying on her chest and warming her neck.  Tom didn't know if this was true, but he wanted to listen to this girl over and over again. They didn't notice how they entered the Great Hall.  Due to the fact that there were so few students, they all sat with the teachers at the main table.</p><p> </p><p> “Well, supper awaits the frozen ones for a long time,” Headmaster Dippet said playfully, looking at the happy latecomers shining with a blush.  - "Believe me, the duck is simply delicious!"</p><p> </p><p>Tom sat down next to Professor Slughorn and pulled the stew close to him.  He was fascinated by the conversation with Miranda and barely noticed how he cut off a piece of roast duck.  Tom also did not notice Professor Dumbledore's sly smile and the fact that Araminta and Jenny were looking at Miranda with almost hatred.  The bright fire of the fireplace gave warmth, and it was undoubtedly the best evening of his life.</p><p> </p><p><br/> * * *</p><p>Tom woke up early on Christmas morning.  At night there was another blizzard: the strongest one this winter.  Looking around, the boy was surprised to find a small mountain of gifts near the bed.  It was strange: at the shelter he received only a packet with a couple of sweets.  Tom sent a couple of magic beans to his acquaintances, and Mulciber, Crabbe, and Greengrass  a figures of biting monsters.  Yet he did not expect to receive anything in return.</p><p> </p><p> "Randolph, get up!"  - Tom exclaimed, pulling back the curtain.  -"Christmas!"</p><p> </p><p> "Well, what do you want, Tom ..." Lestrange muttered displeasedly and buried himself in the pillow.</p><p> </p><p>Riddle returned to his bed with a sigh and began to open the presents.  Randolph sent him a large quill, Araminta and Druella a box of chocolate beans, Miranda a book about the founding of Hogwarts.  Tom smiled, remembering the day before that he had told her that he was interested in the history of Slytherin.  Quickly gathering himself, he quietly left the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>The snowstorm outside the castle windows was darker than usual.  Shivering from the cold, the boy quickly passed the corridors and entered the semi-dark Great Hall.  Inhaling the tart scent of resin and pine needles, Tom admired the play of garlands.  After a quick breakfast, Tom went to the library, where he ordered a search on the topic "Dark Magic."  After a while, he discovered the book Dark Magic and How to Resist It.  A thin voice inside whispered that death was better than learning black magic, but Tom ignored him.  Sitting comfortably in the chair,  Tom began to read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>The Dark arts are spells and magical practices designed to cause tangible harm to other people.  They are used, as a rule, with evil intentions.  Wizards using the Dark Arts are called dark magicians.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at the lights.  For a moment the thought struck him of how useful dark magic was.  He could have made Patrick walk upside down, Ignotus to fall off his broom,  Mulciber and Greengrass to insist that they were Mudbloods themselves.  Tom smiled, but then pinched himself.  Even thinking about it was a crime.  Turning over a sheet of parchment, he read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Some dark wizards have extraordinary abilities and can use Dark magic without a wand.  The highest forms of black magic do not require the uttering of a verbal incantation: a strong dark magician only needs to wish to inflict pain or other harm on the object.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"Tom!"</p><p> </p><p>" What?"  He responded sharply, his face taut as he saw Dumbledore approach him.  - "P-p-professor!"</p><p> </p><p> " What are you doing on this Christmas morning?"  He muttered something and looked back at the boy who looked very worried.</p><p> </p><p>" I - mmm, I just, mmm ... I was looking here ... mmmm ..."</p><p> </p><p>" The meaning of the message?"  Dumbledore finished for him, lights flashing in his eyes.  “As much as it pleases me to know that you are interested in something other than study, I would still prefer you not to seek the answer to this question.  Do you understand?"</p><p> </p><p> “I wouldn't have to look if you told me right away,” Tom answered slyly.  Dumbledore's mustache fluttered.</p><p> </p><p>"And you are quite perceptive, aren't you?  Nice try, Tom".  The boy narrowed his eyes.  “You should be in your room, Mr. Riddle.  Have a nice day".</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Tom got up and walked to the door.</p><p> </p><p> “Accio,” Dumbledore exclaimed.  Tom felt the book he was about to sneak out of his bag.  “It wouldn't help you, one way or another,” the professor smiled, catching a history book.  “I think we can get by with removing ten points from Slytherin,” he added sternly.  - "And don't try it again".</p><p> </p><p>  The professor, still looking at the book, rushed out of the library hall, leaving Tom alone.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The Christmas dinner exceeded all expectations.  The disciples were in ceremonial robes, and Professor Rajan painted the ceiling with the Northern Lights.  At night, Tom tossed about in bed for a long time, until finally he decided to go on an exploration.  Near a large fireplace adorned with mistletoe wreaths, a Christmas tree shimmered with colorful lights.  Twisted candles mysteriously burned in the thorny branches, and their reflections were reflected in crystal balls.  Tom immediately found a beige ball with black rowan branches.  Smiling at him like an old friend, he went out into the corridor.</p><p> </p><p>The huge hall was unusually empty.  Tom narrowed his eyes as he watched the fairy lights play.  Once at the shelter, that very Christmas, when he was eight years old, he also went down at night to look at the glowing spruce.  On the eve of the brute, Patrick Phelps pushed him into a frozen hole and broke his right arm.  Tom bit his lip in pain, but he did not cry.  He well remembered going out at four in the morning into the orphanage hall, dressed in a black sweatshirt with a sleeve torn for plaster.</p><p> </p><p>After admiring the torches by the boar statue, Tom, trembling, walked up the marble staircase.  Heels thudded on the glittering steps, and the boy couldn't wait a minute to turn into the corridor.  Sitting on the windowsill, he decided to take a breath.  A thick, wet blizzard illuminated the lancet windows with a dull, silvery white light, and Tom, putting his hand under his cheek, admired the flutter of the snowflakes.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of the corridor was a large oak door.  Tom thought about it.  A strange feeling did not leave him, as if he had already seen her.  The boy climbed down from the windowsill and went to the door.  "There will be a mirror," Tom suddenly whispered to himself, feeling the shivers running down his skin, and opened the door.  He was not wrong.  In the center of the abandoned classroom was a gilded mirror.  Tom pinched his palm.  It was the same mirror that he had dreamed of in nightmares for a year.  Above the frame was the inscription <em>"Erised strs ehu oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi".</em>In some dreams, Tom was already trying to figure out its meaning.  Maybe ... Maybe it should be read the other way around?</p><p> </p><p>"Is how... not your... face but.... you herts desire ” Tom muttered.</p><p> </p><p>The mirror-like surface stirred.  First, his image flashed through her.  Then it began to change rapidly, until finally the figure of a tall, dark-haired youth appeared.  It was undoubtedly he himself in his sixth or seventh year.  He walked in the usual gray-green tie, but his chest was adorned with the badge of the head of Hogwarts.  Suddenly, the young man's eyes flashed with a strange fire.  He smiled, pulled on his hood and turned his back to Tom.  Then, without looking at him, he threw back his hood.  Tom screamed.  On the back of his head was a hideous face in the form of a transformed snake muzzle.  The face laughed mockingly, until a flash of green light split it into seven monstrous faces.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom? " A stern voice came from behind.</p><p> </p><p>He turned around.  Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway with a candle.</p><p> </p><p>This threatened with great trouble.  If Tom had been caught by Beery, Merrythought or Slughorn, he would certainly have come up with a plausible lie.  But Dumbledore seemed to see right through him.</p><p> </p><p>" Tom, why do you wander at night?"  - the blue eyes of the professor of Transfiguration shone coldly from under the glasses.</p><p> </p><p> “Professor… I got lost after supper… I wanted to go to the Astronomy Tower myself, and…” Tom realized that his voice sounded uncertain, but he could not help it.</p><p> </p><p> “Sometimes, Tom, you are just disgusting to me,” Dumbledore sighed.  - "How could you think of the reckless idea of hanging around school at night, especially in these times?  I'm taking twenty points off Slytherin.  And thank God, ”the professor's voice cracked,“ that I won't inform Mr. Moore about this".</p><p> </p><p>Tom shivered.  Throat gripped viscous, like the pulp of an unripe winter pear, resentment.  Dumbledore again, like on Halloween, gave him a sharp look.  From this look, the boy felt like an insignificant grain of sand.</p><p> </p><p>" Of course ..."- All the pain and resentment against this professor surfaced in Tom's chest, and he felt the salty taste of tears.  "Only your dearest Gryffindors can wander around the school ... Only they alone are allowed to break the rules".</p><p> </p><p> “Tom, I’m not going to discuss existing inter-faculty biases.  You know very well that Gryffindors are also punished for their tricks", a semblance of a smile flashed in the professor's lips ...  “But their pranks do no serious harm to anyone.  While your games ..."</p><p> </p><p> " I'm not looking for anything ..." - Tom looked down.</p><p> </p><p>"Not true.  My observation is that you've been looking for books on dark magic for almost a week", Dumbledore said.  - "I suspect you went to the Restircted Section.</p><p> </p><p> “No, sir,” Tom muttered.  He could no longer restrain himself: tears were falling from his eyes.  Tom was used to almost not crying since childhood, and only Professor Dumbledore in some unknown way knew how to bring him to hysterics.</p><p> </p><p>"Tom ... "-Professor looked at him even more sternly.  - "Now stop crying like a girl, I'm tired of it!  Tell us what you saw in the mirror is better".</p><p> </p><p> "And what is this mirror?"  Tom asked, wiping his wet eyes.</p><p> </p><p> " This is the mirror of Erised.  It shows us the secret desires of our heart.  And I want to know what exactly you saw in it if you screamed".</p><p> </p><p> "I am ..." Tom paused, searching for words.  " I saw myself as the headman of the school ..."</p><p> </p><p> "No wonder," Dumbledore nodded.  - "Like any Slytherin, you are too ambitious not to see something like this.  But that's not all, is it?" He glanced at Tom.</p><p> </p><p> “No… that's all… sir…” Tom tried to smile as sincerely as possible.</p><p> </p><p> “Welly, go to the dungeons and don’t try to wander around the school".</p><p> </p><p>Kicking weakly, Tom trudged to the exit.  There was emptiness in my soul, as if someone had burned a field of grass.  I didn't even have the strength to cry.  I wanted to sit on the steps and, covering my face with my hands, not get up until dawn.</p><p> </p><p> “Tom,” Dumbledore said suddenly sternly.</p><p> </p><p>The boy shuddered and turned around, casting a tear-stained look at the professor.</p><p> </p><p> " Tom ... If you ever want to talk to me about something ... Just like that ... About something ... "- The professor's voice trembled.  Perhaps it was an illusion, but the boy felt as if the professor was feeling guilty.  -" Come to me at any time.  Well?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked out the window: a wet blizzard had turned into a real blizzard, and the low-falling flakes covered the night sky.  He remembered the green letters by the fireplace, the frightened face of Araminta, the black leather-bound book and the face ... the eerie face in the form of a transformed snake's face.</p><p> </p><p> “I have nothing to say to you, sir ...” he said in a trembling voice.</p><p> </p><p> "All right ... Then go ..." Dumbledore sighed.</p><p> </p><p> “If you hadn’t lied so often, Tom,” he whispered sadly, looking at the departing childlike figure.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Secret of Grindelwald</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Professor Dumbledore kept his promise and did not tell the dwarf Moore about the night's incident.  Despite this, Tom became careful.  He no longer looked for the meaning of the mysterious phrase.  Tom understood that he was unlikely to find an answer in ordinary books, and there was no way to get into the Forbidden Section.  After a while, he learned to disguise the covers of books as ordinary textbooks, hoping Dumbledore would not notice, and resumed reading the expanded manuals on defense against the dark arts in search of the words "ENEMY " and "DEATH".</p><p> </p><p>The lessons resumed, and Hogwarts returned to its normal routine.  The freshmen began their astronomy lessons at the Astronomical Tower.  Professor William Odom, a short old man with a gray mustache, taught children to use telescopes.  Almost all Slytherins quickly mastered these devices, and only Anthony Crabbe, amid general laughter, could not do it.  Much less Tom liked Muggle Studies taught by lean professor Julia Aikman.  The boy could hardly contain a grimace of disgust, wondering how much the Muggles from the textbook were not like the Muggles from the orphanage.</p><p> </p><p>On the 16, March Tom woke up at five o'clock.  At night, he again had a nightmare in which an ugly face called him to enter the mirror, where figures in Nazi uniforms flashed.  It was unusually cold.  Tom buttoned up his waistcoat * and, jumping out into the living room, stretched out his hands to the fireplace.  Pulling a chair over to the fire, he pulled out the Founders of Hogwarts donated by Miranda.</p><p> </p><p>It turned out to be interesting to read. Tom was surprised, that Gryffindor and Slytherin were friends for a long time, but but then they started having problems.  Slytherin demanded that only children of wizards be admitted to school.  Gryffindor, by contrast, opened Hogwarts to Muggleborns.  Slytherin was eventually forced out of school, and only Rowena Ravenclaw remained on friendly terms with him.  Below are the portraits of the founders.  Fiery red-haired Godric Gryffindor was depicted as a knight holding a long sword in his hands.  Rowena Ravenclaw, a tall woman with brown hair, held a book.  Curly-haired Helga Hufflepuff examined the plants.  But the most interesting was the portrait of Salazar Slytherin.  A black-haired young man with turquoise eyes was sitting with a book by the swamp, and a black viper was coiled around his arm.  Perhaps it was a game of imagination, but Tom felt as if he had a resemblance to the young Slytherin.</p><p> </p><p>"Cood Morning,  Mr. Riddle!"  A croaking voice sounded from above.  The Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin, flew importantly under the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p> “Good morning, sir,” Tom nodded.  The Baron's eyes were blank, and there were stains of silvery blood on his robes.</p><p> </p><p> “You always get up before dawn, but today you have surpassed yourself,” the Baron coughed, staining his robes with stains of silvery blood.</p><p> </p><p> “You're early too, sir,” Tom said.</p><p> </p><p>" Bad news from the continent.  Very bad”, the ghost replied.</p><p> </p><p> "Grindelwald?"  Tom swallowed nervously.  </p><p> </p><p>The Baron rushed to the stone wall.  Anxious Tom jumped up and, taking his briefcase, rushed into the corridor. In the Great Hall  it was crowded despite the early hour.  Professor Beery seemed haggard.  Director Dippet was reading the newspaper.  Only Dumbledore, his glasses down to his nose, looked at the students.</p><p> </p><p> “Damn…” Tom muttered and immediately shuddered.  </p><p> </p><p>The lancet windows opened, and a stream of owls rushed into them.  Climbing up quickly, they threw fresh numbers of the Daily Prophet from their clutches.  Tom, having contrived, caught the newspaper on the fly and immediately glared at it.  The huge headline read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Grindelwald captured Prague</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Yesterday, March 15th, German troops occupied Prague.  The Czechoslovak state was liquidated.  "Imperial protectorates" Bohemia and Moravia were created on the territory of the Czech Republic.  In Slovakia, the government was formed by pro-German forces.  Recent events mean the collapse of the Munich agreements, under which the Reich guaranteed the inviolability of the new borders of Czechoslovakia.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The moving photograph showed soldiers riding motorcycles into the ancient city.  Swastika flags fluttered from the carved houses with turrets.  The people at the carved grating of the square were shouting, but not a single soldier looked at the crowd.  It seemed to him that even here, in the Great Hall, he hears the sound of boots.</p><p> </p><p>Tom looked at the Gryffindor table.  Jenny Spaulding sat on the edge with tear-stained eyes.  Augusta Ensler, Mona McCabe and Minerva McGonagall were crowding around her.  The girl sobbed, glancing at the newspaper, now at the yellow envelope with the ministry stamp.</p><p> </p><p> “Jenny's mother is dead,” Druella snapped.  - She was just in Prague as an employee of the Aurorat.  They say she fought three SS men at once.</p><p> </p><p>" Jenny stays with her father?"  Tom muttered.</p><p> </p><p> “With my aunt,” Druella corrected.  - Father died when she was two years old.  Tom looked thoughtfully at the red table, remembering the pissed off Mrs. Spaulding.  He did not love this woman, and yet, thinking about going to Diagon Alley, he felt a slight prick in his heart.  How easy it is to die: one life ends, and all the rest continue ...</p><p> </p><p> “I don’t understand anything, Tom,” Araminta blinked desperately, looking at the newspaper.  - "Can you explain to me what's going on?"</p><p> </p><p> "Flamel warned the Ministry," Tom exclaimed furiously.  -" And so it happened".  - The rumble grew, and it became difficult to hear in the hall.</p><p> </p><p> - QUIET!  - shouted Headmaster  Dippet.  - "In spite of everything, no one canceled the lessons.  Go to classes!"</p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore nodded.  Tom could have sworn that he had never seen such a fierce look on the Transfiguration professor.  Tom caught himself thinking that if Professor Dumbledore got really angry one day, his anger would be worse than Mrs. Cole and the caretaker Ernie Spencer combined.  Although the boy continued to behave as if nothing had happened after the Christmas break, he felt uncomfortable around Dumbledore.  The reason was that the professor of transfiguration brought him to tears just by looking at him.  Tom hadn't sobbed like that since the age of three, when he was first flogged with a belt, but here he was scared to the point of horror, to hysteria, because the dean of Gryffindor looked at him sternly.  Because of that incident at the mirror, the boy felt like a weak-willed coward, and the thought of this infuriated him.</p><p> </p><p>In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Merrythought gave a paper on water creatures.  Tom received an assignment for the third year and completed it in half an hour.  A newspaper with a photograph from Prague lay on the teacher's table next to him, and next to him sat a yellow-eyed owl.  Tom looked thoughtfully through the rain-soaked window.  He had the strange feeling that no one in Prague had tried to resist Grindelwald.  Was black magic so powerful that even the soldiers of the dark magician inspired such reverence?</p><p> </p><p> "It's much more complicated, Tom," Professor Merrythought frowned when, after the lesson, the boy approached her with a question.</p><p> </p><p> “The dark arts seem attractive at first.  But practicing dark magic does not go unnoticed: most dark magicians went crazy".</p><p> </p><p>"As  Nietzsche?"  Tom asked.</p><p> </p><p> “Not only,” Professor Merrythought shook her head.  “Salazar Slytherin was the only founder of Hogwarts to study black magic.  He didn’t use it, but it didn’t save him from insanity towards the end of his life".  - Tom seemed  that at these words the professor carefully looked at his left hand.  -"Well , Tom, go to  potions"</p><p>.</p><p>Professor Slughorn was in a good mood.  Jenny Spaulding cried surrounded by Augusta and Mona.  For a moment, Tom wanted to comfort the girl and, oddly enough, talk about her mother.  But Tom immediately suppressed this desire: Jenny was a Gryffindor, and besides, she could not stand it.</p><p> </p><p> “Today,” smiled Slughorn, “we’ll cook the simplest antidote.  - The one who brews the simplest and most original potion, can count on a prize". Tom seemed to him that the potion master winked at him.</p><p> </p><p>The children rushed to the cauldrons.  Mulciber began to chop the earthworms to the malicious chuckles of Susan Park.  Mona McCabe began measuring the herb supply.  Tom, however, did not leave the feeling that there was a catch in the mission.  The gramophone played merrily the Figaro's cavatina, and the boy, dreaming, gently tapped on the table in time to the melody.</p><p> </p><p>He was brought back to reality by a strong cotton from the Gryffindor half.  Professor Slughorn, cursing, ran up to the soot-strewn Michael Princeton.  Nearby was an overturned tin cauldron with dirty liquid spilling over the floor.  Tom smiled along with all the Slytherins.</p><p> </p><p> " Well, what will you please, my young?"  Slughorn smiled as he walked over to Tom.  He  looked at him with laughing eyes and took out the bezoar.</p><p> </p><p> “Merlin, what an impudence,” Slughorn sighed.  “Well, Mr. Riddle is right.  Bezoar is the simplest universal antidote.  I award him a prize: a bottle of Felix Felicis potion.  The audience was drowned in Slytherin applause and Gryffindor whistle.  - It is enough to drink a drop, and luck is guaranteed for several hours in any  problems".</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you, Professor,” Tom whispered.  "This is exactly <em>what I need</em>."</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Tom got up early on the first day of Easter.  The great hall was decorated with willow branches.  The sun's rays played merrily on the gilded dishes.  After breakfast, Tom went out into the yard, deciding to read in the spring air.</p><p> </p><p> “Hi,” he heard a hoarse voice.  Tom smiled: Miranda was standing next to her, coquettishly wrapping herself in a jacket from the wind.</p><p> </p><p>" Reading something again?"</p><p> </p><p>Tom showed her the latest issue of the "Daily Prophet"</p><p>.</p><p> “The Reich is starting negotiations with Russia,” Miranda read, squinting myopically through her glasses.  - "Do you think this is serious?"</p><p> </p><p> “They say Grindelwald studied at Durmstrang,” said Tom.</p><p> </p><p> “Yeah,” Miranda sat down next to her.  - "And left a bad reputation about himself".</p><p> </p><p>"By the way, ask your grandmother about the Restricted Section", - Tom threw an interested look at his friend and again marveled at her quirks: the girl, shivering from the wind, put on shoes without noses.</p><p> </p><p> “Oh, Tom, don't go there,” Miranda muttered.  - "They say that for a person reading Dark books, there is no return".</p><p> </p><p> “You think,” Tom snorted, “teachers don't read such books?  Or high school students?"</p><p> </p><p> "Well, well, again Miss Littleton and Mr. Riddle ..." came Dumbledore's voice.  “Stop plotting for a moment".  - It seemed to him that at these words the professor smiled.  “Miss Littleton, boarding the train soon".</p><p> </p><p>After seeing Miranda, Tom quickly completed all the assignments for the holidays and devoted his free time to studying books on defense against the dark arts.  After three days, he realized the futility of this venture.  He looked through every book on protection from the dark forces that was in the library, but he never found what he was looking for.  Tom caught himself thinking that even high school textbooks were describing ways to counter black magic, and not dark magic itself.  His only hope was the Forbidden Section.  Two or three nights would have been enough for him to examine her.  The catch was what to look for in it.</p><p> </p><p>Tom slept late on Easter morning and went out to breakfast late.  It was sunny, although snow clouds were running across the magic ceiling.  Sitting down at the table, Tom found that a barn owl was waiting for him.  A bag was tied to her paw.  Tom quickly freed the owl from its burden;  the bird hooted gratefully and flew out the window.  The boy untied the note and began to read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Tom, I asked my grandmother about the Forbidden Section.  At the very end of it there is a cabinet with specially guarded dark books.  They are not always given even to senior students.  Wish you a good Easter and don't do anything stupid!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Miranda</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom smiled.  This made the task easier.  Perhaps the mysterious closet should have been seen tonight.  The likelihood that someone would wander around the castle on Easter night - right after the gala dinner - was minimal.  However, Tom quickly slipped the letter into his pocket: he heard Dumbledore's footsteps.</p><p> </p><p> "Have you found something again, Mr. Riddle?"  Professor asked.  He looked extremely worried.  Dippet sat down at the table and began to devour the cold breakfast.</p><p> </p><p> " No, it's from Miranda".</p><p> </p><p>" Fine".  Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief, and his mustache twitched slightly.  At the Hufflepuff table, Phillip Diggory chuckled.  Tom gave him an unpleasant look and, running to the exit, at the very door ran into Ignotus Pruett.  The Gryffindor sprawled out on the floor.</p><p> </p><p> "Do you have eyes, Mudblood snake?"  Ignotus exclaimed.</p><p> </p><p> “Not for stupid cats, anyway,” Tom hissed.</p><p> </p><p>Black and Crabbe, who were also staying on vacation, laughed.</p><p> </p><p> “Calm down, Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said as he approached.  “And because of you, Mr. Pruett, I'm taking ten points from Gryffindor.  Disgusting when a Gryffindor uses a word like that.  After the holidays I am waiting for you in my office".</p><p> </p><p>" Are you leaving, sir?"- asked Tom.</p><p> </p><p> "Yes, an urgent call to the Ministry," the professor nodded, looking closely at the Slytherin.  Ignotus continued to hiss, but Tom ignored him and bounced up the side stairs past Martha Vince as she descended for breakfast.  Everything was going great.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p>Tom carefully got out of bed and stuck his feet into his slippers.  For the first time in his life, he blessed heaven for taking the bed by the door.  The fireplace in the living room was still dim.  He hesitated, drank the bottle of golden liquid and smiled: the body seemed to be filled with vitality, and even going to the Restricted Section seemed a trifle.  At first Tom wanted to grab a hand lamp, but it was too big.  After some thought, he took a long white candle and left the living room.</p><p> </p><p>The corridor was dark and bleed mercilessly, but Tom hardly felt the cold.  Most of the Slytherins were blown away right after the gala dinner, and they were all already asleep.  It was midnight, Tom's favorite time, and a thunderstorm was about to rise to his delight.  He could hear the sound of the shower hitting the windows and the distant rumble of thunder.</p><p> </p><p>Walking to the library door, Tom pointed his wand at the lock.  “Alohomora,” he whispered.  The door creaked open.  Tom lit a candle and walked with it past the endless shelves, ready to put it out at any moment.  The forbidden section was at the very end of the room.  The carved metal doors were closed, but the boy quickly opened them.  As he entered, he cast a spell so that an alarm signal, audible only to him, would sound if anyone approached the entrance.</p><p> </p><p> “Wingardium Leviossa,” Tom whispered.  A candle floated between the shelves, illuminating hundreds of books and a carved, vaulted cedar ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>It must have been twenty minutes before Tom found the dark brown wardrobe.  His heart was pounding hard, his palms were damp with sweat.  With a wave of his wand, the boy first opened the oak doors and then stopped the candle between the shelves.  Tom looked at the candle, and it lit up even brighter.  Then he climbed up the ladder to the upper shelves and began to look through the books.  Some did not have any inscriptions, others were made of human skin.  Tom winced as he remembered how Emilia Greengrass had boasted of making herself some Gryffindor leather shoes before the holidays and walking triumphantly around the Great Hall in them.</p><p> </p><p> "Evil Spirits" ... "Lords of Fire" ... "Dark Wizards of the 15th century" ... - whispered Tom.</p><p> </p><p>The golden letters on the spines faded and partially flew around, and many of the inscriptions were completely in an incomprehensible language.  By two o'clock in the morning, he still hadn't found anything, although he flipped through at least a quarter of the suitable books.  The thunderstorm intensified, and the booming thunder seemed to make even books shudder.</p><p> </p><p>At half-past three Tom grabbed another dusty tome with irritation.  The name “<em>Circle of Darkness</em>” was inscribed on black leather in silver Gothic script.  "Study of Dark magic. "  Tom realized that this was exactly what he needed.  He quickly opened the first page and began to read:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>The Circle of Darkness is the name given to the circle of Dark Wizards.  The Circle of Darkness was created in 888 by the Frankish dark magician Childeric.  He warned that, starting in 888, twelve dark wizards would be born, whose powers would grow from generation to generation.  The prophecy also contains information that the last member of the circle will be the most powerful of all the world has ever seen.  The dark mages claim that Grindelwald, the greatest Dark Wizard of our time, the eleventh member of the Circle of Darkness, and that the last and greatest wizard (see the Peverell ) will soon appear.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Even the bags under Tom's eyes turned white.  It is clear that the dark magician wanted to inform everyone in the world that the circle is complete.  Since he was crazy, apparently he considered it a holiday. "  It must be like a second coming to someone like him, thought Tom.  He imagined Norton Mulciber and his parents wearing holiday hats and dancing like maniacs, but he didn't have time to laugh at them.</p><p> </p><p>If the words of the dark magician who killed Lynn Pinetti were related to the Circle of Darkness, then the black magician who shouted them out wanted others to know about it.  Tom turned the page and put the candle next to him.  Whoever it was, one question remained unclear.  How does this relate to the words "Enemy" and "Death"?  Trying to find some clarification, Tom opened the following section:</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Peverells is an old magic Family.  Many purebred wizard families are related to her.  The motto of the Peverell family was the words: "The last enemy to be destroyed is death", since they possessed the Deathly Hallows.  None of the Peverell brothers could become a Master of Death, as none of the wizards could become.  The current dark wizards, however, claim that the most powerful Dark Master in history (aka the twelfth member of the circle of Darkness), destined to become the Master of Death, will soon appear.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Below in the margins was Dumbledore's calligraphic handwriting: Grindelwald's Dream.</p><p> </p><p> “My God,” Tom whispered in horror.</p><p> </p><p>Much was now becoming clear: Grindelwald wanted to become the Master of Death, and the man in black announced his arrival.  It must be like a second coming to people like him, thought Tom.  Or, if, in fact, someone much more powerful than Grindelwald appears ... Tom shuddered at the idea of such dark power.  Quickly putting the book back in place, he closed the cabinet doors and put out the candle.  Drops of molten wax burned his palm, and the boy rushed into the dungeons, not noticing the sound of heels on the marble staircase.</p><p> </p><p> * * *</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The oak door creaked and Tom entered the abandoned classroom.  In the center, as usual, there was a mirror.  Realizing what was about to happen, Tom trembled with fear.  He was not mistaken: a snake-like face appeared in the mirror surface.</em><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>" Tom Riddle ..." - it smiled.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "Who you are?  What you need? " Tom exclaimed with a mixture of rage and fear.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"Do you want to be  immortal? " The face laughed with a cold laugh.  Tom froze and looked at him like a beaten one.  “I am immortality, Tom".</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Not true,” the boy whispered in horror.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The face laughed again.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You're so weak, Tom.  How vulnerable.  Look at me: how powerful and strong I am!  Only", - the face twisted capriciously, - "accept me".</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> - Never!  - Tom exclaimed and began to retreat to the door.  A blinding flash of green light covered the glass.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tom opened his stuck eyes and hit the pillow with his fist.  Before my eyes stood the usual light green half-darkness and a dark green canopy with the emblems of black snakes.  He lay in his bed, and the snakes peacefully guarded his peace.  It was a dream, just a dream.  Tom smiled faintly: all the worst was over.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>